


Reditum

by AllDolledUpPink



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, MSR
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-28 11:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8444023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllDolledUpPink/pseuds/AllDolledUpPink
Summary: (translation- Latin: Return) Mulder’s miraculous return brings about many questions but are our two favorite agents ready for the answers? Told through him and her POVs (3rd person). Season 8 (Post Dead-Alive), MSR. I will hurt your feelings (sorry) for a little while.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much, agoodwoman, for being a wonderful beta but more so for being such a supportive and awesome friend. My work would not be the same without your help. :)

i. Her

 

"Anybody miss me?" he quips dryly.

 

She can hardly breathe due to the elation that courses through her as she rests her head on his shoulder. It is such a stark contrast to the desolation that was left in the wake of his absence. She is having a hard time believing that this is real. It has to be. She's been sick with grief and wallowing in sorrow, but she is still of sound mind. The fear that has gnawed at her since he's been gone tries to persuade her otherwise. 

 

When he was exhumed and she saw evidence of his chest rising, he was dependent on breathing apparatus and there was no clear sign of when or that he would wake up at all. Perhaps, this is such a vivid dream it's convincing enough for her to believe that he's conscious and speaking. She's had those kinds of dreams before only to be tormented by the reality that he wasn't even there. He was lost and then dead. He was missing for months. The state of decomposition to his body indicated several days of exposure to the elements when he was found and he was discarded like trash in that desolate field.

 

The baby stirs and her lower back starts to protest from being in this position. She adjusts her posture slightly to try to ease pressure off her muscles and moves her head onto his chest. He feels just like home. She doesn't want to leave her haven, but she has to tell him.

 

"Mulder," she murmurs against his torso.

 

She revels in the warmth and rise and fall of it. She hears his heart beating against her cheek and he lets out a soft hum. She's not dreaming. He's really here. Awake and alive.

 

She feels the light tap of his fingers in her hair and looks up at him. He gazes back at her intently. She knows her eyes will give her away as they always have when she looks at him.

 

"It's that bad," he rasps.

 

It's not a question. His usual arousing baritone sounds like footsteps on gravel from so many months of not being used. The dead don’t speak to us with words but with signs.

 

She becomes aware that she is still crying when her tears cascade onto his chest and her fingers feel the moisture of her sorrow and elation. She imagined this moment so many times over. She has dreamt about it, conscious and asleep. She's prayed incessantly that she hasn't met some unknown quota for miracles because she wanted to see him again and tell him about the miracle they created. 

 

The baby won't stop moving as if demanding her to make the needed introduction.

 

He looks exhausted and battered. This isn’t the best time to make her announcement but her body will give her away soon. That wouldn't be right because things should have gone so different for them.

 

She wants it to be just the two of them for a little while longer. She longs to exist within the confines of the days before he went back to Bellefleur and she didn't know what his lifeless body looked liked inside a coffin. She wants to backpedal through the space-time continuum and reside in a basement office with stacks of case files and personal movie nights followed by moonlight lovemaking. Just the two of them, lying sated and complete in their private world away from prying eyes with roundabout questions.

 

Ultimately what she wants is to protect him. 

 

'Just a little longer,' she thinks. 

 

He is hers and she can't help but want to keep him away from everyone else and the reality that awaits them outside the door. 

 

All too soon doctors, nurses, and the Bureau will invade their little space with their queries, disbelief, and accusations. 

 

'I'm all he has left,' she realizes.

 

Only she can claim him and she wouldn't have it any other way. 

 

'We,' she amends as she feels the baby shift around.

 

"Your hair is long," he notes and holds the ends in between his fingers like he's studying mysterious goop at a crime scene.

 

She shifts her body again to get comfortable enough without giving away the evidence of their union.

 

"Mulder, you have been through quite an ordeal," she stammers. "I don't know exactly where to begin."

 

"I have a strong feeling I'm better off not knowing," he deadpans.

 

"Yeah," she breathes out slowly. "I don't want to overwhelm you, but there is something that I really need to tell you."

 

She is nervous and her voice gives her away. He always said he would beat her at any bluff game. As she is lost in the gold specks of his hazel orbs and almost hesitates to continue.

 

He softly prompts, "What is it, Scully?"

 

"Do you remember when you left for Oregon?" she asks cautiously, her eyes filled with worry.

 

"Are you feeling better?" he interjects right away. "You were sick when-" 

 

He trails off with a tinge of anxiety in his voice and classic panic face in full bloom.

 

She attempts to smile at him and licks her lips before proceeding. 

 

She's glad he still remembers and his consternation warms her heart. How she had missed his worrying over her even though she always brushed him off with a typical 'I'm fine.' And she can't help the pang of guilt that hits her as she recalls using that same phrase when he held her in his hotel room in Oregon six months ago. What she wouldn't have given to have him falling over her with concern during this whole time, especially during her first trimester. Perhaps if she knew to tell him, he might have stayed. It worries her she doesn’t know whether he would or not. Of course, he would, he would assure her.

 

"The reason I was getting sick," she begins and takes a deep breath. "Was because those were symptoms of my current…condition."

 

He stares back at her with furrowed eyebrows and his panic face is not abating.

 

"I'm pregnant," she starts and pauses to make sure he's following. 

 

She didn’t want any misunderstandings about what she had practiced while lying in a hospital bed, waiting for Mulder to return but seeing her boss instead.

 

"I found out the night you were back in Bellefleur." 

 

As she mentions that god-forsaken place she can't help the appearance of fresh tears. She sees his eyes begin to show some recognition to the early signs and symptoms they both brushed off. Her nausea, exhaustion, and tender breasts they attributed to a late false menstrual cycle.

 

"That was almost six months ago. I was six weeks along and I thought I wouldn't get a chance to tell you and I'm still shocked as to how considering everything but-,” she takes a steadying breath. “Mulder, we're having a baby," she says, her voice wavering and her tears are unrelenting.

 

She straightens up slowly and watches as his eyes roam all over her body. She gives him a nervous smile as his gaze settles on her belly and his eyes become wide.

 

"The procedure didn't take. So then-“ he trails off and he looks confused and lost.

 

"I ran every test," she assures him. "I know it's hard to believe, but you are-"

 

"No," he interrupts her with a shake of his head. "No, I didn't- I wasn't implying that it's not mine. I- why did I leave?"

 

He attempts to reach for her swollen abdomen with a shaky hand, but quickly retracts it and clasps his hands to his sides. She can see his whole body tense and writhe in pain. She notices the beads of sweat quickly forming on his forehead and he is clearly struggling to compose himself. His breathing is labored, pupils are dilating, jaw clenching, and he looks absolutely terrified. The monitor at his bedside marks the sudden elevation in his pulse and heart rate with exasperated blips.

 

"Mulder! What's wrong?" she cries and raises her hand to soothe him, but he shakes his head violently indicating her to stop.

 

"No! Go, Scully! Run!" he screams frantically. "It's not safe for you! Go!"

 

She can't move. The last time she saw him so out of control and desperate, he was locked up in a psychiatric facility and she almost lost him to an impromptu brain surgery compliments of that smoking son of a bitch father of his. She just got him back so she's not going anywhere.

 

"Mulder," she attempts again.

 

"Shit! Shit! You have to go!" he chokes out in a full state of panic. "Scuuullaaay! Get away!"

 

The door bursts open when a team of nurses and doctors come into the room. He is administered a sedative that tapers off his manic surge and generates a drowsy and relaxed state. One of the doctors wants to speak with her and she tells herself she will be able to keep an eye on Mulder from the hallway outside his room. 

 

'Just a little while' she keeps thinking.

 

"I'll be right back, Mulder," she promises with a honey-filled voice and caresses his thigh.

 

The tenderness and reassurance in her tone is reserved for times when he needs to be soothed. She hopes it still has an effect on him.

 

"No," he pleads. "It's not safe," and he can't attempt to say anymore as he surrenders to sleep.

 

She is shaken up but quickly slips into doctor mode. She demands to know what he was given and the dosage. She orders tests and lets the nurse know to inform her immediately of the slightest change.

 

"Dr. Scully? I can ascertain that you know what the patient just experienced. It's a textbook case," offers Dr. Lim. He is the same doctor that has been overseeing Billy Miles’ treatment.

 

It's hard to think that Mulder's case would be found in any textbook unless it's literature written by Jose Chung. However, her medical background allows her to recognize the symptoms right away.

 

"He seems to have suffered a post traumatic stress episode," she asserts. "With everything he's been through - physically, mentally. It's to be expected."

 

"He has a tough journey ahead of him. It's going to take time for this kind of trauma. There’s a lot to process and adjust to," the doctor reminds her. "We will run further tests and keep him under strict observation. In the meantime, a regimen of benzodiazepines and clonidine will help with any anxiety and nightmares." 

 

He lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder before walking away yet his expression tells her nothing.

 

She blinks away fresh tears and rests her hand on her belly. She is almost eight months pregnant and she needs him. She's needed him for the past six months. As much as she's hated to admit it a part of her has always needed him since she met him. Three months ago she thought she would have to live without him and it's a miracle in it of itself she's still here. Now that he's back there's still hope for them. It will take time.

 

‘It’s okay, it's just a little longer,' she tells herself. Not having him at all is far worse. 

 

"Let's go check on daddy," she whispers as she massages her protruding stomach. 

 

The baby pushes back against her palm as if in agreement. She walks back into the quiet hospital room and Mulder is still asleep.

 

His breathing is steady, but he looks to be having a bad dream. She runs her fingers through his hair and caresses his forehead; his face relaxes. She gazes at him in awe. As ecstatic as she feels to have him back, it's still very strange. 

 

'It's not the first time he’s cheated death' she chides herself. 

 

Deep down she somehow maintained a kind of twisted hope that he would return to her. Of course, she never voiced this thought out loud to anyone because no one would believe in such a thing, except maybe Mulder.

 

Her body starts to protest and remind her of how exhausted she is. She knows she has to go and eat something. A soothing shower and a change of clothes would also do her a world of good. Then there’s checking in with the doctors and Skinner, but she feels overwhelmed with uncertainty because she's scared that he will be lost again. 

 

'Just a little while longer,' her internal voice keeps coaching her as she sits back on the chair, holds his hand and rests the other one on their baby.

 

i. Him

 

"Anybody miss me?" he quips dryly.

 

He turns his face away and allows the sensation of her weight on his shoulder and the scent of her hair to envelop him. He tried lightening the mood by feigning amnesia but instantly noticed that was an asinine thing to do. This isn't one of their usual hospital stints. She looks perturbed, relieved, and something else he can't quite put his finger on.

 

"Mulder," she murmurs against his torso.

 

He revels in the sound of her voice. She's given his name so much meaning with just the slightest inflection and he lets out a soft hum in appreciation.

 

Her eyes are enormous pools of blue and he feels like he can drown in their depths. She's crying and that alone really alarms him. The strict scientist that opened her heart to him and faced monsters and demons only cries when things are really bad. He can't seem to be able to emote anything and that is unsettling as well.

 

"It's that bad," he deduces and tries not to wince as his vocal chords stretch and work after months of misuse. 

 

His brain is muddled with so many thoughts that it's pounding and yet numb all at once. He senses he's been away, but he wouldn't be able to say for how long. Scully is here and that’s all that really matters. He can ignore or at least tolerate the aches and pains going through his mind and body if he directs all his focus on her.

 

He feels as if he has been encased in cement. His limbs are sore to the point of not being able to move. He can move his arms and is relieved because he desperately wants to place them around Scully, but he can't. There's a deep feeling of emptiness inside him and he doesn't know what to do. He decides his best bet is to continue to focus on her. She's always been able to fill his inner void.

 

"Your hair is long," he notes and examines the ends in between his fingers. 

 

'Wasn't her hair shorter?' he thinks.

 

He likes the added length. Her hair is so soft and he can smell her shampoo and he feels waves of calmness sweep over him. He knows he's missed her, but it's rattling that he can't quite pinpoint for how long. It feels like an eternity and at the same time not that long since he saw her last.

 

He feels her shifting her body and feels a pang of anxiety because he wants to draw her closer. However, he senses she's not comfortable in her current position and he can't find the strength to move in order to make room for her on the bed.

 

"Mulder, you have been through quite an ordeal," she stammers. "I don't know exactly where to begin."

 

"I have a strong feeling I'm better off not knowing," he deadpans.

 

He’s aware he shouldn’t be making jokes but it’s easier to deflect than to accept what he sees written across her face. She’s been hurt by what’s happened to him.

 

"Yeah," she breathes out slowly. There’s an uneasiness to her voice that fills him with dread. "I don't want to overwhelm you, but there is something that I really need to tell you."

 

He knows he needs to stop with the dry humor but he can't help it. Some part of him doesn't care and he can't make any sense of it.

 

She grows quiet and is staring into his eyes with such love and devotion that he thinks he could just die happy right there and then because he really needs to feel something and of course she is the only one who could produce positive sentiment in him. He somehow senses that thinking about death is not appropriate at the moment either and prompts her to continue.

 

"What is it, Scully?" he asks softly.

 

"Do you remember when you left for Oregon?" she asks cautiously, her eyes filled with worry.

 

"Are you feeling better?" he interjects right away. "You were sick when-" 

 

He trails off with a tinge of anxiety in his voice and classic panic face in full bloom.

 

He remembers holding her in a forest and the fear of losing her becoming uncontrollable. He remembers leaving her and regretting it.

 

"The reason I was getting sick," she begins and takes a deep breath. "Was because those were symptoms of my current…condition."

 

He stares back at her with furrowed eyebrows and his mind has already jumped to the worst-case scenario.

 

"I'm pregnant," she starts and then pauses.

 

He squints his eyes trying to focus and make sense of her words. His mind is able to make the usual mental leap and recalls the early signs and symptoms they both brushed off. Her nausea, exhaustion, and tender breasts they attributed to a late false menstrual cycle. But his natural ability to connect all the dots is not as sharp and needs her to continue before he can say anything.

 

"I found out the night you were back in Bellefleur," she begins again and he sees fresh tears in her eyes at the mention of the place. "That was almost six months ago. I was six weeks along and I thought I wouldn't get a chance to tell you and I'm still shocked as to how considering everything but-,” 

 

She takes a steadying breath and her tongue does that lip wetting thing she does when she needs a moment. 

 

“Mulder, we're having a baby," she says, her voice wavering and her tears are unrelenting.

 

He watches her as she straightens up and he is shocked by the noticeable girth of her belly. It's beautiful and horrifying at the same time. Scully, his Scully, is pregnant but he can't fathom why she's so big.

 

"The procedure didn't take. So then-" he trails off because the confusion he is feeling is overwhelming. 

 

He can’t help an internal groan at how idiotic he sounds. 

 

"I ran every test," she assures him. "I know it's hard to believe, but you are-"

 

"No," he interrupts her with a shake of his head. "No, I didn't- I wasn't implying that it's not mine. I- why did I leave?"

 

He hates that he can't muster any kind of coherent speech. He remembers wanting a baby. He remembers the heartache of failed IVF attempts. He remembers thinking what a wonderful mother Scully would make. He remembers praying to any deity that cared to listen to grant them a miracle.

 

Now he's considering if he's in some kind of dream. His subconscious is playing out quite the repertoire in which he can see the vision of Scully, beautiful, glowing, and quite swollen with his child. He's fantasized about this many times, but would hastily push the thought away due to the fear of it not coming to fruition. It would be too painful and he didn't want to fail her. He had to live with the notion that he had.

 

Suddenly the vision is torn away. The hospital room walls go from white to black. He tries to reach out for Scully and touch her belly in order to prove he's not dreaming. It is a means to anchor him to this reality and remain with her because he does not want to be transported to where he's about to go. 

 

The metal rods that penetrate straight through his forearms and ankles stop him. The wires attached to him are burrowing into his flesh, cutting him deep and slow, stretching out the pain endlessly. He hears voices recite malevolent incantations and they're coming closer. He's terrified to see that Scully is also in the abyss with him. 

 

‘Why? She wasn’t here before.’

 

"Mulder! What's wrong?" she cries and raises her hand to soothe him, but he shakes his head violently indicating her to stop.

 

"No! Go, Scully! Run!" he screams frantically. "It's not safe for you! Go!"

 

"Mulder," she attempts again.

 

"Shit! Shit! You have to go!" he chokes out in a full state of panic. "Scuuullaaaay! Get away!"

 

He knows what's coming next. The giant blade appears and cuts into his sternum. It takes its position at the very spot where Scully was just resting her head.

 

Alien bounty hunters burst in and one of them tells him something he can't make out. They're always whispering, but he can't understand or he can't remember. What's worse is that one of them is speaking to Scully. He's never known this kind of fear before and he's paralyzed. He lies there in shock and watches as she goes willingly with one of them.

 

"I'll be right back, Mulder," she promises and caresses his thigh. 

 

Her voice is sweet and reassuring. It is laced with love and the security of overcoming this nightmare.

 

"No," he pleads. "It's not safe." 

 

He can't attempt to say anymore as he surrenders to sleep.


	2. II

ii. Him  


 

_ He is trapped in the clutches of the darkness that surround him. Pain clings to his body like a thick and heavy oppressive blanket without the comforting qualities one usually provided. There is no way out. No end in sight. His lips recite her name like a prayer, beckoning to save him. She never comes. His last thoughts are of her. _

 

_ Scully. _

 

_ He dies. _

 

Mulder blinks into an abrupt consciousness. His quickening breaths wrack his lungs painfully as he tries to make some sense of his surroundings. The hospital room and its bland furnishings register in his brain. It’s his very own cabinet of curiosities. 

 

_ ‘Another brush with death and one more hospital bed to add to the long list of Fox Mulder casualties’ _ he muses bitterly.

 

On second thought, it is better than being back in that torture chamber though he doesn’t see a huge difference. Like that place, the room is devoid of the things he longs for the most and the person who can cure his ache. He wants Scully and he feels apprehension start to sink in like a sharp metal blade. He craves numbness to wash over him again. Any other feeling, physical or mental, is abhorrent. 

 

The events of the previous night thicken his anxiety. Scully had been at his bedside and she had just finished sharing some extraordinary news but his psyche was quickly transported back to the alien spacecraft. He couldn’t control the break in his mind. He recalls her leaving the room with what he thought was one of his captors, except that can’t be the case. He is becoming aware he’s experienced a flashback that is all too vivid and corporeal. While it is not one of his tendencies, he can easily psychoanalyze and self-diagnose what he is going through. He can’t expect Scully to fix him. She has other responsibilities that are more important than him.

 

He remembers dying, or so he thinks. Death had been the only mercy shown to him in that sinister place. The memories of his torture are clearly imprinted like tattoos. He can still feel it all. The physical torture may be over but there is no escape from the phantom restraints that haunt and torment his psyche. The big mystery now is how he managed to survive it all.

 

The door to his room opens as if on cue and Scully walks in like the answer to his inquiry. She's glowing with more than just the life growing inside her belly. The dull room is immediately filled with her warmth and radiance.

 

"Hi," she beams brightly. "Have you been awake long?"

 

"Not long," he rasps. 

 

All too quickly, he becomes distracted by the scars on his forearms. The memory of how he received these disfigurations causes him to wince. What he went through would leave a mark on his body as well as his mind.

 

She moves closer to his bedside and he can smell that wonderful familiar scent that is characteristic of her. The light bouquet of raspberries and lavender that is  _ so Scully _ , as well as hints of new ones.  His olfactory nerve tingles and welcomes her sweet fragrance eagerly. What a difference to the stagnant smell of his afflictions he contemplates. 

 

She raises her hand to caress his hair and he flinches automatically before she can make contact. He can’t help it. She notices right away and worries her bottom lip nervously as she clenches her hands in front of her round belly. The chair next to the bed welcomes her form when she gingerly lowers herself onto it.

 

He can't even begin to process that she's pregnant. He's unsure as to what he finds more painful: his memories of his torture or missing out on such a momentous and joyous event in her life.  _ Their life _ . The latter is definitely more agonizing.

 

He fears another episode of flashbacks and clenches his jaw. Of course, she notices that too.

 

"You okay, Mulder?" she asks, her voice thick with concern.

 

He hates that he feels scared shitless and out of control. He can't stand the thought of her seeing him like this. He’s always been able to be open with her about how he feels but this is too much. The darkness and emptiness that cloud his mind do not allow him to offer any solid reassurance of how he feels. He's relieved that she's here but irritated at the same time. She shouldn’t be here but he can’t stand how he feels when she’s gone. Her presence is like a balm to his bleeding soul and yet it stings at all his wounds simultaneously. She reminds him of the questions he needs to ask and of truths that need to be faced.

 

"Yeah. Just trying to get used to my new digs," he offers lamely.

 

They hold each other's gaze. He can see love in the captivating blues that stare back at him, but there's also fear and what he interprets as pity. He immediately averts his eyes. He can't stand that right now. Sympathy is not welcomed in his current state of mind. As if what happened to him wasn't bad enough, now he has to feel emasculated in front of the woman he loves. What’s worse is that her condition also exacerbates his feelings of inadequacy. She walks around growing a life inside her while he has been surrounded by death and is now prone to a hospital bed and nightmares. The usual solace that they so easily found in each other in the past can’t be offered.

 

He can't bring himself to mention anything about the baby and he knows that's wrong but how can he. The pain is too raw. Shame, remorse, anger, and sadness are all battling for center stage. Those are not the kind of things to offer a mother-to-be even he knows that. Those are feelings he has always wanted to keep away from this incredible and enigmatic woman because she only deserves the best in life. Every recess of his mind is filled with thoughts so despairing that a mentioning of her miraculous condition from him could be characterized as blasphemous. For once, Fox Mulder is rendered speechless and he can’t find the right words.

 

There are still too many questions to ask and the possible answers are even more frightening. 

 

_ Is she angry with him for leaving? How did she find him? What has she been doing? When is the baby due? Did she leave the X-Files? Is she still with the FBI? Do the X-Files even exist anymore? What’s next for them?  _

 

Last he remembers they were on the verge of shutting them down.

 

Certainly, she wouldn’t have stayed with him being gone. He can’t imagine her carrying on in their basement office and going out into the field chasing and shooting at monsters while pregnant. 

 

Nevertheless, Scully always keeps him guessing in every way, including parenthood. When she asked him to father a child, he assumed she would leave their work behind. It would be the logical thing to do. He did not want their child to be left unprotected if something were to happen to one of them. Having a parent coming home covered in cuts and bruises or never coming home at all is not what he wants for his little boy or girl. He swallows the tight knot that forms in his throat at that thought. The current circumstances and all their previous years working together are grossly substantiating. And yet, they didn’t talk about those details when they decided to try for a baby. Even now as she displayed her affections so openly in front of hospital staff, his role in the upbringing of their child is unclear to him. He didn’t know how to bring it up then and he definitely doesn’t know how to breach the subject now.

 

The awkward silence that befalls the room is excruciatingly deafening. He can sense her studying him. He recalls how easy it’s always been for them to connect and offer comfort to each other with simple words, a touch of a cheek or hand, and a quick glance, but filled with plenty of longing and promise. Not long after being discharged from their many hospital stays they would quickly bounce back to their usual selves and get past the upheaval and focus on their next case as well as each other. Their perfect combination of science, instinctual and intellectual prowess, and mutual trust providing them with the hope to keep searching for the ever elusive truth. Except, this time there wouldn’t be a ‘next case’. There just couldn’t be.

 

They found the truth they were looking for in each other but he is uncertain of what to do with it next. He believes she is meant to do more with her life. He told her as much the last time he really held her in his arms. He feels the frustration start to take over him at not being able to find his words in order to express to her how he feels. Then again, he is also discouraged and panicked because she is having a difficult time reverting to their usual form of communication as well.

 

He concentrates on the soft pink of her tongue as it darts out to lick her lips. It’s a trademark action of hers when she needs extra time to gather her thoughts. He can tell that she’s struggling with how to approach him, what to say, and how to say it. Her trepidation is disconcerting because Scully does not grapple with words when it comes to informing him of the fallout from his escapades. 

 

He can’t help but feel like one of the many monsters they have come across in their work on the X-Files. Vanity has not stricken his ego in the past. Nonetheless, the thought of looking like one of those mutants is alarming and he visibly shudders at the notion.

 

The silence is finally broken by her husky tone. He’s missed the sound of her voice in the ways she whispers her desires and recites scientific findings. It always manages to stimulate his senses regardless of the situation.

 

“I ordered some tests to make sure everything checks out okay. You experienced an episode yesterday that is all too indicative of post-traumatic stress, which as you know is completely normal. It’s just a matter of recognizing what triggers them,” she offers with a perfect bedside manner.  “Um…you were infected with an alien virus, but I was able to treat it with an aggressive course of antivirals. You still need to be monitored but once the results are back we can focus on getting you out of here.” 

 

She touches his hand and her relief is obvious when he doesn’t flinch. He would like to touch her more but he’s afraid. The flashbacks are uncontrollable and he can’t risk causing her any kind of injury if an onslaught occurs while she is in his arms.

 

“Dr. Lim and I think your prognosis is good considering what you’ve been through,” she continues and her eyes are filled with admiration.

 

“I hope he’s a better plastic surgeon than my last. He’ll make a fortune on this face-lift,” he quips gravely. He follows up with his best self-deprecating smile, but Scully isn’t amused.

 

“Mulder,” she empathizes. Her eyebrows are creased with worry. 

 

He opens his mouth in an attempt to object with more derogatory remarks about himself but stops. He doesn’t want to worry her any more than she already is. Then again, sarcasm and self-loathing have always been his preferred coping skills in these situations so it will be challenging to placate the urge.

 

The urge is definitely placated when he hears her earnest whisper that borders on sensual and arousing, “There is some scarring, but you’re still beautiful.”

 

“Speak for yourself, Scully,” he murmurs.

 

She smiles shyly and gives his fingers a gentle little squeeze. He squeezes back and allows for her hand to remain resting on his. He needs to take hold of a constant and that’s always been her. 

 

“Really, Mulder. You’re truly a sight for sore eyes,” she affirms.

 

He doubts that. She has always been prepossessing under any circumstance, but now she is undeniably nothing but raw beauty. He considers making a Beauty and the Beast reference but he’s feeling too self-conscious to go through with it. It has never been more apparent of what polar opposites they are and he doesn’t see the point in bringing it up. His ego will be spared.

 

“I remember things, Scully. I don’t need a mirror to show me what I already see in my mind.” 

 

He slowly shifts his hand away from hers. The cold and emptiness that replace the warmth of her touch make him mentally kick himself.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she inquires quietly as she leans closer to him.

 

“No,” he grimaces. “You don’t need that kind of imagery in your head.”

 

The chair creaks when she shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

 

“Mulder, I know exactly what was done to you. I did the autopsy on one of the other abductees and I also reviewed all of Billy Miles’ medical charts and spoke with him myself,” she divulges in the professional manner she reserves for Skinner and fellow agents. “You can talk to me, Mulder. You don’t have to hold back.”

 

“Jesus, Scully!” he hisses and courageously tries not to choke on the wave of nausea that assaults his stomach.

 

He can’t grasp why she would put herself through that and yet he knows her very well so he perceives the answer already. He fully trusts her. However, it’s appalling to have to discuss such things in her current condition. That type of stress can’t be good for a baby.

 

“Mulder,” she begins and is interrupted by the arrival of someone opening the door.

 

A.D. Skinner walks in and greets them both. The guilt-stricken look on his face is apparent.

 

“Agent Scully,” he addresses with a glance full of respect. “I really need a moment to speak with Agent Mulder. Alone.”

 

She gives their boss her best ‘Don’t push him’ glare and they both nod in understanding.

 

He picks up on the silent communication between them and resentment begins to possess him like the black oil. Unspoken words through a significant glance was something he and Scully have always had. It bothers him that she would have that with anyone else even if it were a trusted ally like Skinner. He can’t imagine her working with someone else. He is and always has been her partner. 

 

He senses that they’re trying to keep something from him and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to be treated with kid gloves. He already feels like he’s some outsider in a strange land so babying him is not what he wants or needs.

 

He feels awkward to make any demands from Scully or relive things that he thinks are just too stressful. She shouldn’t be exposed to any of this, given her current state, but he can’t tell her that. She has always been a strong and independent woman. What right does he have to stake his claim as her overprotective partner when he hasn’t been around?

 

The disconnection he feels with her is only driving his anxiety further. In any circumstance, they have been able to talk with one another about anything.

 

He sees it as obvious that Scully can take care of herself and hopes that it’s her independence and resourcefulness that have carried her through while he was gone and not someone else. He doesn’t think there is someone else in a romantic sense because the love and devotion he sees in her eyes are all too apparent. There’s also the baby. 

 

He has always been aware of the effect she has on men. It is certain that even now while pregnant, Dana Scully still has plenty of interested admirers but it’s irrelevant. The loyalty and love they have for one another isn’t something one gives up on in just six months especially with a constant reminder of that love living and growing within her. 

 

There had been other obstacles in the past and they still clung to each other. He could never love someone else like he loves her and he thinks she couldn’t either. Nevertheless, he can’t help the jealousy that takes over every time he thinks about Skinner and others being an emotional pillar for his partner and unborn child.

 

“I’m going to go meet with Dr. Lim and see about those tests,” she tells him with another squeeze of his hand. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

 

She leaves the room as Skinner clears his throat nervously. Mulder stares back at the Assistant Director with an intensity that demands he tell him everything.

  
  
  
  
ii. Her

 

_ She feels his strong but gentle hand on her belly as it lazily draws out tiny circles all over her taut naked flesh. His other hand is cupping her breast. He whispers words of love and adoration in her ear. She revels in the tingling sensation that his lips cause as he kisses her neck. Though his hold on her swollen tummy becomes protective, it maintains its tender grasp. He murmurs something and she can’t make it out. She turns to face him. His side of the bed is cold and empty. _

 

_ Mulder? _

 

_ He isn’t there. _

 

The usual perturbing state in which she wakes up since he was taken is quickly cut short as it dawns on her that Mulder is back. He is no longer lost or dead, but alive.

 

She rises out of bed as quickly as her very pregnant body allows and starts her morning routine in order to get back to the hospital to see him.

 

The drive to the US naval hospital in Annapolis, MD feels like a slow-motion reel of cars indecisively choosing lanes. They don’t understand that she can’t get there fast enough. Of course, it’s a significantly shorter distance from the hotel she opted to stay in rather than make a forty-five minute trip from Alexandria and that’s if traffic is kind.

 

As she arrives right outside Room 115, she feels the pleasant and familiar feeling of butterflies in her belly. This is a definite indicator of her excitement to see him, though these days it can also be the baby. Either way, she’s eager to be at his side and hopes he’s awake as she enters the room.

 

"Hi," she beams. She feels silly that she’s unable to control her glee but she’s missed everything about him. "Have you been awake long?"

 

"Not long," he rasps. 

 

His eyes avert from hers quickly and he becomes very interested in examining his arms. There are noticeable scars on his forearms and she notices him wince. She suspects he is recalling how they were inflicted and her heart aches for him.

 

She moves closer to his bedside. The sight of him is like a dream come true and she has to touch him. Her vigorous thirst for his touch can only be attributed to the raging hormones of pregnancy. Sure, when in the privacy of their apartments they didn’t have to control their need to touch each other but having to touch him so openly while in this setting is uncharacteristic. She has always been able to maintain a strict professional demeanor even under dire situations.

 

She raises her hand to caress his hair and he flinches abruptly before she can make contact. His reaction is unexpected. They have experienced countless distressful situations and he has never reacted like that. He had not recoiled from her when he woke up in an unknown bed even after she shot him. She was also able to embrace him when he pointed a gun at her while under the effects of psychiatric treatment gone terribly wrong. 

 

Feeling a little unsure of how to proceed, she gingerly lowers herself onto the chair next to the bed.

 

"You okay, Mulder?" she asks as she had countless times before in hospital rooms just like this one, their office, or in the car after coming so close to the truth as it slipped through their fingers. Only this time, he came back from being dead and buried. 

 

It’s not possible to hide her feelings from him anymore after giving herself fully to him. She’s certain that her voice, eyes, and body language give her away. Aside from being an excellent profiler, he has always been able to read her because no one knows her as well as he does.

 

She can understand that he’s feeling keyed up and on edge. He still has to get used to his surroundings and start making sense of what he went through. The doctor in her concludes that his nervous system is stuck in a state of constant alert that continually has him feeling vulnerable and unsafe due to the terrible ordeal he endured.

 

They hold each other's gaze. The soft reflective hazel swirls that color his pupils display love and tenderness. There are also shades of green as if under an overcast sky. His stare is mesmerizing, save for whatever is blocking their usual ability to communicate. She can’t help but feel self-conscious when he quickly averts his eyes. She wonders what he thinks of her new figure. He hasn’t mentioned her pregnancy and she doesn’t dare bring it up. It’s not a good time. The last thing she wants is for Mulder to make any decisions based off of guilt or perceived obligation. She hopes to offer the solace they so easily found in each other in the past.

 

"Yeah. Just trying to get used to my new digs," he offers half-heartedly.

 

The awkward silence that befalls the room is excruciatingly deafening. She has to approach cautiously due to not wanting to upset him. Her medical training has taught her that it can be very difficult for PTSD patients to talk about their traumatic experiences. During his absence, she performed several autopsies on victims of abduction similar to his. Her nightmares filled in any questions science couldn’t answer.

 

The kind of physical and mental violations he endured are not easy to bring up. As exceptional of an outlier that Mulder tends to be, he is no different in this case. It can even make things worse if it triggers another episode for him. She definitely does not want to become a source of his distress.

 

She decides to break the silence by offering her medical and scientific viewpoints in hopes of establishing their familiar patterns. She organizes her thoughts carefully because she doesn’t want to overwhelm him. She licks her lips nervously before she begins.

 

“I ordered some tests to make sure everything checks out okay. You experienced an episode yesterday that is all too indicative of post-traumatic stress, which as you know is completely normal. It’s just a matter of recognizing what triggers them,” she offers with her best bedside manner.  “Um…you were infected with an alien virus, but I was able to treat it with an aggressive course of antivirals. You still need to be monitored but once the results are back we can focus on getting you out of here.” 

 

She touches his hand and sighs gratefully when he doesn’t flinch. 

 

“Dr. Lim and I think your prognosis is good considering what you’ve been through,” she remarks with admiration. 

 

“I hope he’s a better plastic surgeon than my last. He’ll make a fortune on this face-lift,” he quips gravely. He follows up with his best self-deprecating smile, but she isn’t amused.

 

“Mulder,” she empathizes. 

 

She worries when he puts himself down. She knows all too well of the enormous guilt-complex that drives him. Mulder has never been one to give too much credence on the effects that his physical appearance has on others. In fact, he has always maintained a state of oblivion and modesty on how breathtakingly good-looking he is. It is another unexpected response from him. She needs to reassure him that he has nothing to worry about because he still has the same effect on her that he always has. His looks aside, it’s his intellect and way with words that really get her going.

 

She hopes she gets to act on her impulses like she had after his last hospital stay. Sex had been put off for a few weeks because of the damage the tobacco beetles and nicotine had reeked on his lungs. Yet, as soon as he recovered she showed him how grateful she was to have him alive and healthy. On the other hand, he wasn’t nearly as traumatized like he is now. There also weren’t so many questions to be answered and truths to be faced. There wasn’t a baby to consider and lost time to regain. Ironically, she was already two weeks pregnant at the time.

She can’t allow herself to act on her urges because once again his recovery is at stake. She would love to lean in and kiss him in order to placate his insecurities but she’s unsure whether he is ready for that kind of physical contact given his reaction to her trying to caress his hair. Her hormones are reeking havoc on her practical side.

 

She takes in all his delectable features and she can’t help the arousal that hits her core. The breathy tone that escapes from her lips will hopefully provide reassurance, “There is some scarring, but you’re still beautiful.” 

 

“Speak for yourself, Scully,” he murmurs.

 

She smiles shyly and gives his fingers a gentle little squeeze. He squeezes back and allows for her hand to remain resting on his. Her heart beats faster at the sensations that his reciprocation stirs in her.

 

“Really, Mulder. You’re truly a sight for sore eyes,” she affirms.

 

He is still beautiful and she knows that she loves him despite any physical injuries or disparities. She didn’t fall in love with him because of his looks. She will always love him.

 

“I remember things, Scully. I don’t need a mirror to show me what I already see in my mind.” 

 

His eyes have grown dark and he sounds very far away. He slowly shifts his hand away from hers. She instantly misses and craves his touch.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she inquires quietly as she leans closer to him.

 

“No,” he grimaces. “You don’t need that kind of imagery in your head.”

 

The chair seems to snicker disapproval when she shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

 

“Mulder, I know exactly what was done to you. I did the autopsy on one of the other abductees, and I also reviewed all of Billy Miles’ medical charts and spoke with him myself,” she divulges professionally but as gently as she can. “You can talk to me, Mulder. You don’t have to hold back.”

 

“Jesus, Scully!” he hisses and she wonders if she’s disclosing too much.

 

There are also the nightmares she experienced while he was missing. Only they could have such a deep connection with each other that she experienced sympathy pains for him and saw first-hand what he was going through. Despite any recognition and commiserating that may result in her being a believer, she isn’t going to bring up her visions.

 

She doesn’t want him to feel pressured to talk about it but also wants to reassure him that she will be nothing but honest with him. It’s always been a matter of trust for them. She yearns to express her love and reaffirm her commitment and support until he is reminded of how things use to be before all this happened.

 

“Mulder,” she begins and is interrupted by the arrival of someone opening the door.

 

A.D. Skinner walks in and greets them both. The guilt-stricken look on his face is apparent.

 

“Agent Scully,” he addresses with a respectful glance. “I really need a moment to speak with Agent Mulder. Alone.”

 

Scully gives their boss her best ‘Don’t push him’ glare and he nods in understanding.

 

She doesn’t want Mulder to become upset or worse have another episode triggered by anything that Skinner has to say. The immense annoyance that strikes her due to their private moment being interrupted can’t be helped. She has been without him for much too long. She’s grateful that Doggett received the message loud and clear since he hasn’t tried to make an appearance again. She is not ready to talk about her new partner just yet. There are just too many extraordinary changes that are being thrown at the father of her child and revealing too much all at once can be detrimental to his recovery.

 

However, she is extremely thankful to her boss because if it were not for him Mulder wouldn’t be here at all. She understands that Skinner does need his moment with Mulder as well but she hopes he treads lightly with everything regarding the X-Files and the Bureau’s attempt at defamation.

 

“I’m going to go meet with Dr. Lim and see about those tests,” she tells him with another squeeze of his hand. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

  
She leaves the room and Skinner clears his throat nervously. Her curiosity peaks as to what the two men will discuss. She hopes it helps Mulder. Men need that type of comradery from one another. Perhaps, she can discuss it with him later after they’re done.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter belongs to CC and 1013 productions (episode: Three Words). Also, thank you to agoodwoman, my awesome beta, for providing me with the Hendershot dialogue.

iii. Her

 

Since she found out about her pregnancy she has done everything to ensure the healthiest development for her baby. Prenatal vitamins are taken punctually every day and all doctor appointments are honored like federal holidays. She takes walks for exercise and has maintained a healthy diet. She has given into the occasional craving dressed high in fat because yogurt with bee pollen won't help sustain the life inside her. Ironically, she has developed an aversion to it during her pregnancy. 

 

Mulder should find that amusing, she thinks to herself. 

 

Instead, she craves savory foods like steak, pizza, and pasta loaded with cheese and thick sauces. Based on her cravings, her mother thinks the baby is a boy. Scully, of course, dismisses such a theory because there is no scientific basis for old wives tales just as much as how high or low she carries determines the sex of her child. The cravings are rare, she eats out of obligation because she's responsible and knows better. 

 

If it weren't for the baby she probably wouldn't eat at all. Her pregnancy has been overshadowed by Mulder's absence. How cruel that the miracle they so highly anticipated would be granted only to have him gone. She tries not to be ungrateful, but many times she has wondered if she is somehow being punished. Her mother and Father McCue assure her that's not the case. 

 

As an expectant mother would be expected to, she hasn't allowed herself to indulge in visiting baby stores, obsessing over the perfect names, or preparing the nursery, let alone be doted on by her baby's father.

 

The baby was planned as much as it was a surprise. It is an answer to a prayer and a result of love and passion. For only a love like theirs fueled by years of trust, loyalty, friendship, and understanding could ignite a life in a place where it was never meant to exist.

 

As beautiful as the way this child came to be, there are still fears and doubts. The things she saw during the Hendershot case planted uncertainty. Mulder didn’t ask directly how it’s possible for her to be pregnant but she senses his unease. Better to discuss these concerns now than have them impact his decision about the baby.

 

A few deep breaths allow her to steady her nerves as she walks back into his room. Mulder sits at the edge of the bed wearing a hospital gown as well as a faraway expression on his face.

 

“The conversation with Skinner was uh… enlightening to say the least,” he starts without preamble. “I…I’m not sure what to think. There are too many questions and um I just don’t know.”

 

He gives her belly a tentative glance before returning to focus on the blank wall in front of him.

 

"Mulder, I know you have some concerns..." she starts in an attempt to discuss what she's gone through over the last six months. "I saw things..."

 

Out of a moment of clarity, he senses her discomfort and tries to assuage whatever her hesitation is. He touches her hand briefly but retracts.

 

"What?"

 

"I saw... When I got to the end of my first trimester I saw… I met a man who told me about his wife and her own experiences. They were just like mine."

 

"What did you see?"

 

The tone in his voice is one she recognizes. It’s fascinated and curious. He’s wondering what she would admit to outside of science and if it bordered on the paranormal. That tone made her ache for an easier time between them when they only had to worry about budgets and which case to take on next.

 

"I saw a woman give birth in the back of an SUV but what she was told her baby was and what came out of her wasn't the same."

 

The memory of the eerie alien baby and the little mewling sounds it made when it was delivered on that dark night makes her body tense. She also feels the familiar twinge of guilt and worry as she recalls being injected with a sedative to stop her from witnessing the alien birth and waking up mortified in a hospital bed thinking she had lost their baby.

 

"Scully..."

 

His voice is a warning. She knows he doesn't like things to be danced around or the delicate nature of hinting to something. Say what you saw and leave the guesswork and speculation to another time. Not about this.

 

"It looked like an alien but a baby," she shakes her head and tries to fight the bile forming in her throat. "What you said you saw on that space ship, the fetus held on dry ice before Deep Throat was killed. One in the same kind."

 

Mulder’s eyes are transfixed on her stomach. "And?"

 

"I had an amnio and ultrasounds as well as some genetic marker testing. This baby has no junk DNA or alien virus or any other kind of markers that parents usually worry about... Spina bifida, for example."

 

His hand reaches out to touch her stomach and the baby kicks exactly where his hot palm is placed. They both jerk in surprise. Their child is already attentive to his voice just as she has been enthralled with it for the past eight years. 

 

"He kicks when you talk. He likes your voice I think."

 

"He?" 

 

For a moment, the look of amazement usually reserved for Big Blue or an alien corpse occupies his face instead of the faraway expression it's been exhibiting since he woke up a few days ago. She can see a look of pride and relief come over him and the corners of his mouth are on the verge of curling into a smile.

 

"He, she. I don't know. I guess I want to be surprised like my parents were." She hopes and prays she will give birth to a normal and healthy baby so whether it's a boy or a girl is the least of her worries. She also didn't want to find out without him and she wasn't sure if he would have wanted to know or be surprised too.

 

Mulder retracts his hand and stares at the painting on the wall as though the shared affection of a moment between them fleeted. "Oh."

 

"You said the Mulder family passes genetic muster," she reminds him of a telling conversation they had on a bench on a hot summer’s day in a town that shouldn’t have ever seen the horrors inflicted by the Peacock family.

 

"I used to think so," he mutters.

 

"It does. Our baby is healthy."

 

She insists on reminding him of the baby at this moment because sooner or later, when he is discharged, he will have to decide what and how much he is going to be involved. She can only be delicate with him for so much longer.

 

He looks at her but his expression is unreadable. “Good.”

 

Alarms go off in her head at how quickly he is withdrawing from her. This Mulder is apathetic. He has no drive to seek the truth and grasp at every imaginable theory. He’s not the same man who held her, told her to not give up on a miracle, and kissed her tears away. 

 

In the past, her science managed to provide answers and save him countless times. Perhaps, if she brings him solid evidence that he is getting better and that he has survived this, it will alleviate his anguish.

 

“The results of your tests should be ready by now. I am going to go check with Dr. Lim and I’ll be right back.”

 

He nods and fixes his gaze back to the painting on the wall.

 

She needs the Mulder before the abduction back. The man who shared her bed, whispered her given name as he pumped in and out of her and helped create the life inside her belly.

 

On her way to meet with Dr. Lim, apprehension commingles with her practicality and thoughts of love and devotion. The fear is losing Mulder again and not being able to raise their child together. The effects of the alien virus that inhabited his body are unknown and there could be other possible complications with his health.

 

These fears had become abundant when the rug was pulled from under her feet with the revelation that Mulder had a brain disease and was dying. It was a condition he knew about and kept to himself. A strict study of his medical records revealed the undeniable truth. There's so much uncertainty.

 

Another voice in her head counters that he must have wanted to be a father or else why would he have agreed to do so. The night he agreed to father a child, he spoke of his love for her and implied he would be there for her as well as their potential child. She feels foolish for not knowing the answers. She'd laugh if she could at the absurdity of being able to acquire answers for government conspiracies, viruses, and other strange phenomena but not have the answers to what is next in their relationship. They didn't talk about those details when they decided to have a baby. There was no point in discussing the niceties of a situation that had no guarantee of becoming a reality. She deals with hard facts and scientific evidence, not ifs or maybes. 

 

When the situation was no longer hypothetical and became fact and reality, he wasn't there to talk about it. Now that he's back, she's afraid to ask because of what his answer might be.

 

She shuts her eyes tight at the sudden exhaustion that grips her. Beside her, Dr. Lim lets out a surprised breath.

 

"I just can't begin to tell you. In all my years of being in this profession I have never seen anything like this," he marvels with a quick shake of his head. “Agent Mulder’s tissue and neural and vascular systems were in an irreparable state of decomposition just a few days ago and that is no longer the case. In fact, they are repairing themselves at a remarkable rate.”

 

“Before his disappearance, Mulder’s medical records indicated a clear decline in his health due to an undiagnosable condition that resulted from damage to the temporal lobe,” she states in her usual professional manner though she still feels the pang of unresolved feelings at the mention of this undisclosed illness.

 

“Yes, I reviewed his files,” he provides pointing at the  images on the X-ray illuminator. “These are his recent PET and CAT scans and there is no trace of cerebral contusions or  hyperintensity corresponding to edematous changes in the temporal lobe like in his previous scans. It’s not an official medical diagnosis but I might say he’s a new man.”

 

She gives her colleague a triumphant smile. "Let's go deliver the news."

 

She enters his room first and Mulder is still transfixed by the wall. He hasn’t moved but she senses a tension in the room, an abrupt change in him.

 

“Mulder, you okay?”

 

“Yeah. For a guy who was, uh, in a coffin not too long ago I think I'm doing pretty damn good. I don't quite have my legs under me... yet.”

 

He stands up and crosses to the other side of the room to prove his point but there is a noticeable strain in his behavior. Hopefully, the news of his miraculous condition can cut through it.

 

“Well, you might want to consider sitting down when you hear what we have to tell you,” she says breathlessly.

 

He sits by his own compliance or to humor her, she doesn’t know. “Uh-oh.”

 

“Now, it's, uh it's good news. It's... it's miraculous news.”

 

As happy as she is about his test results, petrifying fear assaults her. His apathy is unnerving.

 

“I can't possibly exaggerate the inconceivability of you sitting here. Let's be honest... your condition may be more incredible than your recovery,” expels Dr. Lim.

 

“Whatever neurological disorder you were suffering from, it's no longer detectable. After a course of transfusions and antivirals, it has rid your body of the virus that was invading it. The scars on your face, on your hands, on your feet, on your chest, they, they seem to be repairing themselves.”

 

He touches the scars on his face as if to make sure she is telling the truth.

 

“Mulder, you are in perfect health.”

 

“Wow,” he provides evasively. His indifference is like a slap to the face. After everything that has transpired, it’s disheartening that the news is not having the desired effect.

 

“How do you feel, Agent Mulder?” asks Dr. Lim.

 

“Like Austin Powers.”

 

He’s smiling and she concedes with a laugh of her own but there is nothing funny about these circumstances. He’s trying to mask the gravity of the situation with humor like he’s always done but it's not the same this time around. 

 

The doctor leaves the room but it doesn’t dispel the awkwardness between them.

 

“Dr. Lim is going to go start your discharge papers,” she says with a lick of her lips. “There’s no reason to keep you here, so we can go home now.”

 

She can see his body tense when she moves closer to him. He is developing some kind of aversion to her. She places a hand on her belly because that's a part of him she's still able to touch. If it weren't for the piece of him that she carries inside her, she would be utterly devastated by his uncharacteristic coldness.

 

“So I guess it’s back to sleeping in a coffin for me since this place is ready to give me the boot,” he declares rather stoically. “That’s a shame. I was just getting used to the, uh, pleasant surroundings.”

 

Her vulnerability is inevitable but even more so now that she's expecting his child. Tears have traversed her face for the past six months and she's tired of succumbing to them. She tucks away an errant strand of hair behind her ear showing no sign of discomposure.

 

“No, Mulder,” she says softly. “Your apartment is waiting for you. I’m sure the fish will be pleasantly surprised.”

 

It's alarming that his depression continues to grow at such a rapid rate. It's reminiscent of the time they lost the X-Files, twice, and when he lost his sister, father, and mother. It's like all these instances of his life wrapped up into one. It's as if he hasn't gained a child and a woman who loves him unconditionally. Why can't he see that? 

 

A treacherous thought creeps in making her stomach lurch, one that she's tried to suppress and banish to the deepest depths of her mind. It was devastating to bury him knowing their child would not meet his or her father because he had been taken against his will. She doesn’t want to imagine the desolation that would entail if her baby doesn’t have a father because Mulder willingly chooses not to be there. After all, he knew he was dying and wasn't going to be around.

 

“I’ll go get some of your things and then…home,” she provides calmly, trying to banish the wretched thoughts swarming in her head.

 

“Thank you, Scully, for… well, for everything.”

 

“Of course, Mulder,” she provides longingly, hoping and praying that he finds his way back to her soon. “Okay, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” 

 

She leaves the room before she loses any of the resolve she has left.

  
  
  


iii. Him

 

The beige and mint green accents of the walls breed sterility and boredom. The landscape portrait hanging on the wall is black and white with the intent to depict calmness and serenity while remaining impartial. Every room is the same and he has been in them one too many times. A lecture from his Oxford days taught him that hospitals are designed similarly and with some kind of green shade in them due to the soothing effect it provides for patients. The neutral undertones are supposed to help reduce stress and therefore aid in the recovery process.

 

It's a load of fucking bullshit. There's no serenity or any kind of soothing effect to calm the anguish that is tearing him apart.

 

Shakespeare comes to him and he thinks less poetically. He has a to ask himself if he wants to live or die? The answer is obvious.

 

He needs to get out of the damned hospital so he can go home and think properly. 

 

_ Home? _ He is not sure what the word means anymore. After just finding out he has been dead for three months, living inside a casket, buried next to his parents’ remains, the definitions and current circumstances are blurred.

 

“That was a good ‘ole Mulder family reunion,” he mutters bitterly to the emptiness in the room. 

 

Though he can't say he's too surprised. He knew he would end up there sooner or later but it doesn't make it feel any less macabre. When people die, they die, death comes with an ending and finality. Those who pass on are not meant to return and reflect.

 

Surely, he has no place to go to. The dead don’t require roofs over their heads or any other kind of comforts provided by a home. He wonders what poor fool lives in his old apartment now. The walls witnessed a lot of tragedy, but the place redeemed itself with blissful memories of her.

 

Before he was taken, his home was anywhere she was. Now, she is home to someone else. A deserving someone. He can’t allow himself to trespass in the dwelling they so painfully built without him. He has no possessions worth contributing and will only bring about their destruction. Besides, his presence wasn't meant to exist there. He should be dead.

 

He reviews over and over in his mind what Skinner told him. His former boss was filled with guilt for what happened in Oregon, as he enlightened him on the reasons for his return from the grave. If not for Skinner becoming a true believer and Scully’s medical interventions, Mulder would be roaming around the planet as an alien zombie. 

 

What he's having the hardest time processing is what happened after being exhumed. For all intents and purposes, Mulder should be dead. A brain disease was supposed to end his life. All the drilling and cutting that he endured during his abduction should have taken his last breath. Skinner was supposed to kill him in order to save the baby. Death has a claim on his life, he keeps escaping its clutches but it's only a matter of time. If his death can ensure Scully and their baby’s safety, he will die a thousand deaths. But he also wants to live by their side for as long as he can.

 

Just then, Scully enters the room and his mind feels the need to scramble so as to not allow these thoughts to escape out of his mouth.

 

“The conversation with Skinner was, um, enlightening, to say the least,” he starts without preamble. “I…I’m not sure what to think. There are too many questions and... I just don’t know.”

 

He gives her swollen belly a tentative glance before returning to focus on the wall in front of him. He thinks he actually hates this painting and if this was another time in his life, he might steal and burn it. So many words want to come out but they can’t be released. This is a moment in her life that she should have enjoyed fully with the only concern being the baby’s well being sans the death threats. From the moment the possibility of her having a baby arose, all he wanted was for her to focus on that.

 

"Mulder, I know you have some concerns..." she starts as if she can access his thoughts. "I saw things..."

 

He senses her discomfort right away and touches her hand but retracts it. He’s certain his absence has made things difficult for her. He can’t afford to offer comfort when he is just as frightened by all the possibilities and when he’s missed out on so much. 

 

"What?"

 

"I saw... When I got to the end of my first trimester I saw… I met a man who told me about his wife and her own experiences. They were just like mine."

 

"What did you see?" he inquires cautiously, trying hard to maintain a neutral tone. 

 

From the moment he woke up and she shared the news of her pregnancy, he has accepted that the baby is theirs. He does not want to hear that that she came across information that proves she had been abducted again and something was done to her. No matter what he will protect Scully, but he really wants the baby to be okay. This is their miracle.

 

"I saw a woman give birth in the back of an SUV but what she was told her baby was and what came out of her wasn't the same."

 

"Scully..."

 

His patience is wearing thin. The thoughts spiralling in his head are on the verge of driving him mad. She has always provided him with answers and there has never been hesitation to speak her mind. Yes, he has missed out on a lot but now is not the time to have his mind speculate. There shouldn't be any guesswork when it comes to the baby’s health.

 

"It looked like an alien but a baby," she continues. "What you said you saw on that space ship, the fetus held on dry ice before Deep Throat was killed. One in the same kind."

 

He can’t help but focus his gaze on her stomach. "And?"

 

"I had an amnio and ultrasounds as well as some genetic marker testing. This baby has no junk DNA or alien virus or any other kind of markers that parents usually worry about... Spina bifida, for example."

 

His hand reaches out to touch her stomach and the baby kicks exactly where his palm is placed. They both jerk in surprise. The movement is an indescribable feeling and in that moment he feels their undeniable connection resurface. It is reminiscent of the many times she has astounded him and he asked if they should choose China patterns and get married. He has witnessed many things in his life like the existence of paranormal phenomena and it doesn't hold a candle to this. Scully is noticeably pregnant but actually feeling his child move makes the situation become soberingly real.

 

Scully clears her throat nervously. "He kicks when you talk. He likes your voice I think."

 

The gender-specific descriptor gets his attention even more. "He?"

 

"He, she. I don't know. I guess I want to be surprised like my parents were.” 

 

He thinks that as long as both Scully and the baby are healthy, he will be happy with either a boy or a girl. It's a curious thing that Scully would not want to find out considering the science for such things is now available. A selfish moment strikes him and he's glad that she opted to wait because that would have been another important moment he would have missed in her pregnancy. Also, knowing the baby’s gender could only make him feel more attached and he's already struggling as it is with his emotions and how to grasp his new reality in this life.

 

Mulder retracts his hand and focuses on the painting on the wall instead. "Oh."

 

"You said the Mulder family passes genetic muster," she reminds him of a telling conversation they had on a bench on a hot summer’s day in a town that shouldn’t have ever seen the horrors inflicted by the Peacock family.

 

"I used to think so," he mutters.

 

"It does. Our baby is healthy."

 

He notices the emphasis on the word our. He’d like to place his hand on her again. He wants nothing more than to test her theory, speak to her belly, and see if the baby responds. It assuages his anxiety and it boosts his ego that his son or daughter is fond of him considering his absence. But it tears him apart to think that the innocent life inside her is growing accustomed to a voice that he or she might not get to meet. 

 

He looks at her hoping his thoughts are not written across his face and give him away. “Good.”

 

“The results of your tests should be ready by now. I am going to go check with Dr. Lim and I’ll be right back.”

 

His mind is in a whirlwind of infinite and dark possibilities. The fear of their child being taken away is beyond paralyzing. If this baby ends up with the same fate as Emily and Samantha then it will certainly destroy both him and Scully. He doesn’t know how he can protect this child now if he failed to protect the others.

 

Mulder reassured Skinner that the right choice had been made. When it comes to Scully, he will gladly choose death if it procures her safety. The look of shock and disbelief on his boss’s face was priceless when he was granted full absolution of the past six months without a single hard feeling. And it goes without saying that Scully can’t find out about what transpired with Krycek.

 

His gratitude to Skinner in preventing such a loss is eternal. However, rationality and logic relinquish control to anger and it will not allow for a reconciliation of his feelings and thoughts. He is angry with himself but also at her. How can he begin to make sense of it all?

 

It is an irrational anger due to his trauma but he feels the rage growing inside him, spreading like fire. It was careless to put herself and the baby in danger by remaining in the FBI. Another department must be reaping the benefits of her work because there is no way that the X-Files could be run by one agent while sitting at a desk. Skinner seemed to purposefully sidestep any specific details about the X-Files. The secrecy only kindles his anger further.

 

Scully brought him back to the world where he isn't wanted or needed. He returns to see her eyes full of devotion and her womb occupied with the promise and truth of love but only to have to choose death. How cruel that she brought him back to witness these things that he cannot have.

 

Maybe it would be easier if he could convince himself he doesn’t want a life filled with making love to the woman of his dreams and the sounds of a child’s laughter. Such a fatalistic attitude can't be helped. The injustice of it all for a man to suffer, to be given life and bestow it only to have to die all over again and again. 

 

The insidious thoughts swarming in his mind make him question whether his soul is, in fact, dead even though he is physically alive. Gratitude should be permeating through his cells instead of anger. He has returned to the mother of all second chances and he should be nothing but happy and thankful.

 

If he had stayed, the neurological disorder would have killed him and she'd be burying him right about now if not sooner. But he wouldn't have missed the delivery of her good news. He wouldn't have missed so much of her pregnancy, watching her body change before his eyes because of his child.    
  
On the other hand, his abduction provided the cure he sought for. Though the intention was not to return him as the same Fox Mulder and deviant plans were avoided, he is dejected, traumatized, and out of place. Nevertheless, very much alive his inner voice points out. But for what, to have to avoid telling Scully that death is calling and he must answer, yet again? And it's not just her this time. There's a little boy or girl he can't stop thinking about, imagining what it would be like to hold him or her.   
  
It's stupid to think he can get a chance at a normal life. He should know better by now.

  
So who should he thank and show gratitude to? To the Aliens? To the God that Scully believes in? It's all so fucking convoluted.

 

Surrounding himself with her would alleviate the torment. The thought of allowing Scully to take care of him like she always has in the past makes him forget the pain and anguish of the situation he is in. Perhaps, he could find his place and insert himself back in her life. They could raise their child and forget any of this ever happened. He shakes his head vehemently as if that alone would rid his mind of those thoughts. Those are not the thoughts he would like to purge.

 

The beige and light green fade to gray and black. 

 

_ “ _ Shit!” Mulder grimaces as the flashbacks hit him. 

 

His breathing is harsh, unsteady, and his eyes unfocused.The trip to the memory of his violations is painful but quick. There are no blades, drills, or restraints in sight once he returns to the hospital room. Absent-mindedly, he touches his scars, forcing himself to breathe deeply.

 

Not a minute goes by before the door to his room opens again.

 

“Mulder, you okay?”

 

Bile rises up in his throat. He is far from being okay, but takes a moment to collect himself before turning to face Scully and the doctor.

 

“Yeah. For a guy who was, uh, in a coffin not too long ago I think I'm doing pretty damn good. I don't quite have my legs under me... yet.”

 

He stands up and crosses to the other side of the room awkwardly. He feels like he’s under the introspection of a microscope by the way they are looking at him.

 

“Well, you might want to consider sitting down when you hear what we have to tell you,” she says breathlessly.

 

He sits and hopes it’s bad news. Maybe he still has an incurable disease that will kill him and put him out of his misery. “Uh-oh.”

 

“Now, it's, uh, it's good news. It's... it's miraculous news.”

 

He looks at her. Her eyes show how relieved she is and he wishes he could share in her exultation.

 

“I can't possibly exaggerate the inconceivability of you sitting here. Let's be honest... your condition may be more incredible than your recovery,” expels Dr. Lim.

 

“Whatever neurological disorder you were suffering from, it's no longer detectable,” she continues. “After a course of transfusions and antivirals, it has rid your body of the virus that was invading it. The scars on your face, on your hands, on your feet, on your chest, they, they seem to be repairing themselves.”

 

He can’t help but touch the scars on his face. They may be repairing on the outside but he is a heap of open wounds on the inside. 

 

“Mulder, you are in perfect health.”

 

“Wow,” he provides in a noncommittal tone. There is nothing to be excited about. It’s a waste of a clean bill of health when he most likely has to die again. 

 

“How do you feel, Agent Mulder?” Dr. Lim asks encouragingly as though he deserves the highest commendation for the anger and confusion he's felt since he woke up.

 

The hopefulness in the doctor’s voice makes him wonder if Dr. Lim expects him to turn water into wine. He shouldn't be here, his return will not bring about miracles and is undeserving of praise.

 

He needs to muster a part of his old self in order to get through this without falling apart. That Mulder made silly jokes at times like these. “Like Austin Powers.”

 

He offers her a half-smile. A small laugh escapes her decadent lips, but there is no humor behind it. She knows him too well. He hasn’t convinced her that he’s fine any more than the times she tried to convince him. On the other hand, the doctor is persuaded because he smiles and leaves the room.

 

“Dr. Lim is going to go start your discharge papers,” she says with a lick of her lips. “There’s no reason to keep you here so we can go home now.”

 

He likes how she says it, how she wraps them up in ‘we can go home’ but he can't give in to what his heart wants. She moves closer towards him and his whole body tenses. He quickly averts his eyes to avoid seeing her reaction though he can bet money that it is a pained expression. 

 

The course of action he is going to take will not be easy. In order to protect them, he has to push her away because being around him will only put her in danger. This is by far the hardest thing he will ever have to do. His place as her protector and endangeror awaits. He can’t ever get himself to change his feelings about her but perhaps he can change hers. In his mind, he needs her far more than she needs him.

 

“So I guess it’s back to sleeping in a coffin for me since this place is ready to give me the boot,” he declares stoically. “That’s a shame. I was just getting used to the uh, pleasant surroundings.”

 

He looks down at his hands waiting for her response. He doesn’t dare look at her because just the slightest glimpse of what he’ll see in her eyes will demolish his resolve. He prepares himself to say that he will be staying at a motel before she suggests that they are going back to her place but she speaks first.

 

“No, Mulder,” she says softly. “Your apartment is waiting for you. I’m sure the fish will be pleasantly surprised.”

 

Once again she has rendered him speechless. The anger renounces control over to shame. His chin fuses itself to his chest to keep himself from looking at her. He couldn't have imagined that she kept his apartment considering he had been six feet under for three months. Tears sting his eyes at the intensity of her devotion to him. He doesn’t deserve her.

 

“I’ll go get some of your things and then…home.”

 

She doesn’t try to touch him or get any closer and he hates himself for that. He shuts his eyes tight and clears his throat.

 

“Thank you, Scully, for… well, for everything.”

 

“Of course, Mulder.”

 

He can feel her loving gaze pierce through the iron curtain he is attempting to put between them. She isn’t going to make this easy.

 

“Okay, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

 

He nods and she turns to leave. The door shuts behind her with a mocking reminder that he is alone again. The intended soothing effects of the room’s décor ask him why he doesn’t just die already.

 

“If only I’d never been born,” he answers back. 


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter establishes when MSR began. It takes place at the very beginning of Season 7. NC-17 and NSFW strongly apply.

iv. Him

There was a major shift in their relationship. She had witnessed things that made her question her faith. He had found out how deep betrayal and the fabrication of lies ran. They may not have agreed, his paranormal always clashing with her science, but their friendship and love were a constant and touchstone. 

He was done denying his feelings for her. His strange dream about living the perfect suburban life had revealed the truth. Scully was his fate and only choice. He'd be damned if he continued to allow anything to come between them.To his delight, she practically inscribed what was next for them on his lips with her thumbs after she echoed the sentiment of his words. 

Finally, it seemed they were both ready for more of what their relationship could offer. 

That same day, he called her and made plans to see her with the pretext of studying the pictures of the alien spacecraft she had seen in Africa. 

“Are you sure Mulder? You should really take the time to rest.”

He had a mandatory leave of absence to help him recover from the incision to his head and couldn't set foot in their basement office.

“I’ve been hanging around my apartment so much, my fish are starting to give me a funny look,” he almost whined. “Don’t you miss me, Scully?”

Anticipation tingled through him like electrical sparks on the way to the ground and gathered in his toes.

“Maybe,” she answered after a while and he couldn't help but notice that her tone sounded coy and playful.

Is Scully flirting? he thought, and his heart rate sped up.

“You’re a doctor. Aren’t I better off around you?”

“Okay,” she conceded with a little laugh. “Your place. At what time?”

“No, I’ll come to your place. You have the research and pictures there and, uh, I need to get out anyway,” he stated nonchalantly. He hoped her keen investigating skills wouldn’t discover his ulterior motives. “I’ll bring take-out. How does Wong’s sound? I’ll be there at six.”

Of course, he was interested in her findings but more so in just being next to her.

“Mulder…” she began cautiously. 

He already knew what her next concern was. He couldn't drive either so he quickly assuaged her doubts.

“I’ll take a cab and I won’t talk to strangers.”

There was a short silence before he heard her release a breath, and her flirtatious tone returned.

“Sure, Mulder. I’ll see you soon.”

He donned his Yankees cap to cover up his bandages and readied himself to begin courting his partner and best friend.

They spent their personal time together and it differed from every time before. It wasn’t like when they broke into suspicious looking facilities in the middle of a corn field in Texas without the Bureau knowing. This time, there was an awareness along with an acceptance that things between them were changing, for the better. Their evenings resembled normalcy as opposed to ghost hunting in an abandoned house on Christmas Eve. This evolution in their friendship was bridging the gap caused by a former girlfriend and bureaucratic bullshit. It was transitioning into the kind of relationship that Mulder had denied himself for seven long years.

Over the next few weeks, they spent their off-hours at her apartment. Three or four times out of the week he sat on her couch surrounded by all things Scully. He self-indulged in the warm exterior of her home and her hospitality. She giggled and asked personal questions without restraint. He happily laid himself bare to her introspection because a care-free and flirty Dana Scully was intoxicating. Their nights would end with a heartfelt embrace and a kiss on her cheek but he wanted more. He sensed that perhaps she did too when she would take longer to disengage from his arms. Her gaze would linger on his lips and her warm breath would tickle his neck. 

Mulder had been mentally tracking every smile that showed her gums, every giggle that turned to a full laugh and each touch she initiated that caused his heart to skip a beat. It wasn't one-sided between them. He could feel that she liked him too. Thirty-two days after she reported the news of Diana's death from his doorway, a final line had been crossed. At the time, he didn't have a literal death sentence hanging over his head. Over the course of eleven dates, seven movies, four bottles of wine and twelve beers, he was able to muster the courage to kiss her the way she deserved to be kissed.

His cool exterior was back now that the bandages had been removed. His barber cut and fixed his hair, as well. Scully ran her fingers through it showing her appreciation and approval with a quirked little smile. After dinner, they sat close together on her couch as she told him about what she saw in Africa and how desperate she was to find a cure to get him back. They had studied the pictures and her notes but she had not revealed her innermost thoughts and fears since she found him after his surgery.

He couldn’t contain himself anymore. 

He leaned in, closing the little distance left between them and her lips parted in anticipation as her eyes fluttered closed. With his heart pounding in his chest, he felt her breathing become hitched as his lips brushed oh-so-lightly against hers. She let out a faint whimper and he imagined what other things he could do to her to extricate such a sound. He needed to find out as much as he sought the ever-elusive truth.

It started off tender and sweet as most first kisses do. However, the familiarity they already had after seven years of being friends and partners changed that. They wanted to pick up from where they left off the last time their lips almost met. The fevered pitch of sexual tension between them could no longer be denied and caused them to have reckless abandon once their mouths joined. Their kiss became heated and hungry.

His tongue glided along her bottom lip, demanding entrance and she obliged eagerly. It plunged inside, probing and exploring the warmth and wetness of her mouth and she moaned. Every sound she made heightened his desire for her and loosened the grip on the little resolve he had left.

Any feelings of being unsure quickly disappeared as he felt her body press even closer against his and her hands grasped the back of his head. One of his hands quickly claimed its position on the small of her back and pushed ever so slightly causing her breasts to make contact with his chest. The moan that escaped from her made his dick throb in the all-too-constricting fabric of his jeans.

The dueling of their tongues captivated him like lights in the sky. His fascination only increased when her body merged onto his lap. A gentle stroke to the small of her back had her sitting astride his thighs. He paused after a while to catch his breath and to assess the look in her eyes. He had dreamt about this so many times but he needed to know she was certain.

His open hand on her back moved up and down, slowly, and then hesitantly. He was suddenly unsure of how much was too much and where the unspoken boundaries they established for their partnership were since he had just obliterated one by sticking his tongue in her mouth. His thumb brushed along her ribs just under her bra as his other hand stretched and curved around her side.

She did nothing to stop him. 

Mulder took that as a green light. The last vestiges of professional rules between them disappeared and revealed their true desires. He let his hand move a little higher until the pad of his thumb brushed over the swell of her breast.

“Mulder,” she exhaled, her voice strained with arousal. 

Throughout their years of being partners and friends, she had given his name so many different meanings by the slightest inflection. She said so much with the use of his name although, most of the time, it communicated exasperation or caution. Tonight, ‘Mulder’ meant ‘keep going’ and it was punctuated with all her love for him. He didn't have to hear her say it with all those words, he knew what existed in her heart.

On that cool and cathartic night, she stood up from their entanglement on the couch, took him by the hand, and led him to her bed. There was no denying they were on the same page when she pulled him into another heated embrace.

She placed her mouth to the curve where his neck and shoulder met, and kissed there. Then her lips trailed up his throat with a gossamer-like touch to the tender spot just beneath his jaw and bit gently. He buried his fingers in her hair.

"Fuck, Scully," he moaned in a strained voice. Prior to now, only the walls of his apartment were privy to these moans as he thought about her and stroked himself to oblivion. 

Relief washed over him as he pulled back slightly to see in her crisp blue eyes a darkened desire for him. There was no resignation or doubt, there was no sadness or fear. His lips claimed hers again. He took her bottom lip in between his teeth and bit down gently, eliciting another whimper from her. He was starting to become dependent on that sound. Her sweet taste was recorded to memory. He never wanted to kiss anyone else after her and she made him forget anyone else before her. He kissed her until their breathing became staggered. When her lips left his, her eyes stayed shut, and he pressed his forehead to hers. 

“I knew this would be amazing,” he said softly, his fingers traveled down to her waist and grazed at the hem of her shirt.

“And how long have you been theorizing that, Mulder?” she countered, the sensuality in her voice was driving him mad. 

This woman owned him, that was all too clear. He had not even touched her the way a man touches the woman he belongs to. The moment was approaching but he wanted to savor every second leading to it.

“I knew from the moment I met you,” he whispered in her ear, noticing her shiver. "Someone so passionate in their science had to be harboring the ability to take a man's breath away."

"That's not been the reputation that's followed me-"

"Ice queen?" Mulder interrupted and he shook his head. "Ignorance and idiocy often follow a fear of rejection, Scully. And men suck."

"Not all men," she said quietly and they shared a smile.

“I think of myself as an intelligent, sensitive human being with the soul of a clown which always forces me to blow it at the most important moments.” 

“Jim Morrison? You just keep unfolding like a flower,” she replied with her eyes gleaming.

The moonlight bathed her bedroom in soft shadows. Her hair fell softly around her face and she had an ethereal glow about her. He tucked an errant strand behind her ear. She reunited her mouth with his.

“And?” he asked when they paused to take a breath. "Is what you're discovering living up to the expectation or fantasy?"

“I like it,” she said in that sultry voice that quickened his pulse. “And has it not been said that people will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls?”

“Oh, Scully! Carl Jung, you know what I like,” he told her as his hands moved under her shirt and discovered her lace-covered breasts. “Chantilly lace?”

She pulled back and nodded slightly before removing her shirt without any hesitation.

The vision of her creamy skin in the sexy black lace she hid underneath was a glorious revelation. He had witnessed her bare form before but the circumstances had been dire and far from romantic.This time, her nudity was all for his love and pleasure. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the God he didn't believe in. 

“Your turn,” she whispered.

He lowered his head and his hands touched her wrists as she pulled at his shirt. Together, they removed the soft cotton and let it fall quietly to the ground.

Her skilled hands immediately roamed his chest, claiming and caressing what was rightfully hers. In his mind, he qualified that’s what he was, hers. He smiled at her before allowing his eyes to travel down to her breasts, so perfect in their lacy enclosure. He reached behind her and undid the clasp, allowing the garment to fall off her shoulders and then down to the floor. 

“Beautiful,” he affirmed as his eyes drank in the contours of her chest. “So beautiful.”

Crushing herself to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and covered his mouth with hers. He reveled in the sensation of her sucking on his bottom lip and the silky softness of her bare breasts against his chest. The soft little whimpers she released as her nipples rubbed against his skin made his cock ache. His hands gave a little tug at the waistband of her pants, suggesting that they should be the next to go.

Scully broke the kiss and reached for his belt. “You first, Mulder.”

He watched as her small hands popped open the metal button of his jeans with a flick of her fingers. The zipper slid down slowly past his erection. Mulder felt mesmerized by what was happening. This wasn't the first time she was undressing him however prior experiences involved him being unconscious or out of his mind. His breath hitched as her deft fingers skimmed his shaft through the fabric before curling on the waistband of his jeans and boxers. Her hair brushing across his stomach and thighs as she pushed the material down his legs to pool around his calves.

A quick glance and her raised eyebrow made Mulder step out of the confinements. He watched with fascination of the intensity in her eyes as she looked at him. Her lower lip was tucked between her teeth as her gaze fell upon his cock. This was not a situation which warranted her medical expertise or concern like the times before now.

He had seen this type of focus before while she bent over a microscope seeking answers. It was a look of determination and deep concentration. Her mouth parted slightly like it always did when she reached a groundbreaking conclusion. She licked her lips and he felt himself grow impossibly harder.

“C’mere, Scully.”

His thumbs hooked on both her pants and panties to drag them down her legs. They were nothing but perfect, smooth alabaster skin paired with delectable softness. He had only imagined what her legs would feel like after so many years of watching them sheathed in pencil skirts and walking away in three-inch heels. How did she do it? This woman was the definition of alluring. 

Tonight, he hoped, he would finally know what it was like to feel her legs wrapped around him.

With all clothing banished and the rawness of desire, their hands explored each other unabashed. His hands cupped her ass, squeezing and roaming freely. Her arms hooked tightly around his torso and the feeling of her manicured fingers was exquisite as they grasped and traced all over his back.

When her breath grew heavier, she sat down on her bed and pulled him towards her. The excitement in her eyes depicted more than just a lust for each other, they were admittedly in love.

"Scully…” This was not a night he hoped to only experience once. He wanted the long-term benefits of an exclusive relationship. The rules of decorum for this level of intimacy vindicated the use of her given name. “Dana, I—" 

His raspy voice was cut off by a guttural moan as he inhaled the scent of her arousal. It was perfection and he needed to taste her.

He gazed into her eyes. Somehow, they were always able to convey entire conversations in a single glance. Her deep blue eyes provided him with all the answers to his questions. They would proceed without any barriers between them because they fully trusted each other. 

To him, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Only she fit perfectly with his body and preciously tucked under his chin. Ever since he held her for the first time, he marveled at how her femininity made him feel like a man. Her trust and devotion provided him with inner peace. Her beauty extended further to the realms of her mind. He loved how she could switch between scientific monologues and profound wisdom from one moment to the next. As she had pointed out before, smart was sexy. She was everything he always wanted, the very truth he had been searching for all his life.

As she settled on the bed, he mapped her skin inch by inch from her ankles to her hip with his mouth. Her scent was divine, a perfect blend of lavender and raspberries mixed with earthy desire. When he tentatively lapped at her sex, the rapturous gasp that escaped her throat was all the encouragement he needed. Every flick and swipe of his tongue made him become more addicted to her. She seemed to vacillate between holding her breath and releasing euphoric moans as his tongue delved between her delicate folds. He licked and sucked on her swollen bundle of nerves until her panting erupted into a cry of his name.

“Oh, Mulder...Mulder...I’m…”

Her pelvis thrust against his face as her orgasm coursed through her. He consumed every drop, licking and sucking her sweet spot until her hand in his hair summoned him to come up to her. He kissed at all the places he fantasized over the years through scrubs and long trenchcoats. From her inner thigh to the mounds of her chest. He finally met with her mouth and they shared the taste of her.

He moaned when her hand closed around his length. She moved it up and down in slow, delicious strokes, making him shiver. 

“Lay down,” she whispered. 

He didn't waste a second in doing as she asked. He never felt more grateful to be Fox Mulder as she straddled his hips. When she started rubbing her wet slick folds up and down his throbbing cock and whimpering in delight, his gratitude knew no bounds. The need to feel her close was so powerful that he sat up to press their chests together. She shifted on his lap, her softness rocking against his hardened flesh. His hands roamed her back, moving gently down to the curve of her waist, and held her tightly against him. The tips of his fingers grazed the indentation above her tailbone. He met her gaze before trapping her mouth into another heated kiss. With her arms hooked around his shoulders and legs wrapped around his waist, her pelvis undulated with his.

Sitting up with his legs stretched out in front of him and Scully grinding on his cock was a remarkably intimate position.The fluid motion of their hips stimulated every nerve ending of his body. His lips brushed the soft skin of her throat before kissing her nose and eyelids. He pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and her lips wet and stung-looking. He felt a tightness in his throat, seeing her like this, knowing that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“I want you so bad," he whispered in her ear.

"Oh god," she moaned huskily. “I want you, too.”

He grabbed hold of her right breast and kneaded it softly, rolling the nipple between his thumb and index finger.

"Mmm-Mulder," she gasped as he palmed her other breast and gave it the same kind of attention.

He continued to rock and grind against her. Her scent surrounded him like an exquisite perfume. The sounds that she made were the most lyrical content to ever reach his ears. Having the privilege of feeling and touching her as he was evoked a sense of happiness and wholeness. These were things that he had never felt with anyone else or at any moment in his life until he met her.

“I've been waiting too damn long to do this," he rasped.

"Oh god, Mulder," she moaned breathlessly. "Please…"

"What do you want, Dana?" he asked tenderly, kissing along her collarbone.

"I want...I need you inside me.”

He almost came undone right there and then. A deep growl emanated from his chest after hearing such a demand spoken from her lips. As he hugged her close to him, he lowered her to the mattress. Her tousled hair contrasted beautifully against the sheets. She was fire against the cool crisp white of her bedding. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her blushed body. 

“You're so beautiful,” he said again as he positioned himself in between her thighs.

Scully smiled up at him, a tender expression that quirked at the corners of her mouth. She stroked his cheek and spread her legs a little further. His dick twitched in anticipation.

Mulder took himself in his hand and rubbed the tip of his length over her folds. In a slow but deliberate motion, he began to enter her. She was unbelievably wet. He kissed her sweetly, devotedly, as he inched himself closer to the paradise of being sheathed within her heat. There was nothing between them except for their love and desire. The sensation was beyond arousing. His cock ached to fully claim her as his.

Cautiously, he pushed inside a little more and the tightness that enveloped him became overwhelming. She felt so fucking good wrapped around his cock like a tight fist. He rocked his hips experimentally and she moaned. In response, she bucked her hips up and he felt himself push finally all the way inside. He began thrusting slow and steady to make sure he wasn't hurting her.

"It's okay, Mulder. I won't break," she encouraged.

He groaned as he pushed harder, faster, until his name was falling from her decadent lips in a breathless moan. His mouth moved along her jawline, finding that sweet spot behind her ear. He sunk his teeth into her soft flesh. His tongue gently soothed and his lips tenderly kissed and sucked until she writhed underneath him. 

Making love to her was like getting her inked under his own skin, an invisible yet indelible Scully-tattoo that would forever mark his flesh. He loved her so much and even though he had said it before, his timing and the circumstances had been off. This moment was perfect.

“I love... you...Dana,” he declared as he moved inside her. Her hands explored the muscles of his thrusting thighs and rear. Her nails scraped deliciously against his skin with a proprietary hold. “Oh god, Scully.”

The look that came over her face was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Quick breaths escaped her parted lips. Tears welled in her eyes but they only illuminated the ecstasy etched across her face. 

“Oh god,” her voice accompanied their heavy breathing with a cathartic sob. “I love you.”

He grunted, feeling her walls clench and constrict around him, as she met her release. He thrust one last time, burying himself deep inside her as he let go. He came hard, spilling into her in a rhythmic spasm.

This was the first time she had spoken her love out loud, and he wrapped his arms tighter around her. 

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

“I love you,” she echoed before she buried her face in his neck.

Without their passion overtaking them, the confession was real and raw as they were ever going to have with one another. 

“So is that what it takes for you to believe me?” he teased and his hand cupped her face. “All these years I've been taking the wrong approach.”

“Mulder,” she breathed out.

Her eyes welled up with tears and her lips trembled into a pout.

“Hey, hey none of that,” he said tucking her hair behind her ear. “I'm so happy we did this. You mean so much to me...Dana.”

Her eyes still twinkled with unshed tears but an amused expression came over her flushed face.

“Da-na,” she mouthed, testing out the syllables of her own name.

“That’s where I went wrong isn't it?” he asked. “I should have used your first name to say I love you and you would have believed me.”

She laughed and her inner walls contracted around his overstimulated cock.

“Scully!”

Regretfully, he slid out of her warmth and they both groaned at the loss. The tissue box on the nightstand was proffered to her before he tugged at a few sheets for himself. They made quick work of cleaning up and he padded over to the trash can to deposit the contents of their combined mess. He quickly made his way back to the bed, shifted onto his side, and took her in his arms.

“Oh so it's Scully now,” she teased.

“It’s always been you, Scully, and always will,” he affirmed. “Do you have a preference?”

“No, as long as you’re saying my name like that,” she quipped.

Her thumb seductively traced his bottom lip. He felt his dick start coming back to life and she raised a questioning eyebrow. With her, he would be more than glad to test out his refractory period, all in the name of love and science.

He couldn’t stop staring at her with a definite grin across his face. Little kisses were planted on her jaw and he nuzzled her nose with his. She returned his affections with a toothy grin that he was certain was only reserved for him from now on. Her fingers ran through his hair and then cupped his cheek.

“There’s an extra toothbrush under the sink and a change of clothes in the bottom left drawer,” she murmured. “Unless…”

“Perfect,” he punctuated with a firm kiss on her lips. “Because I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

“Good,” she sighed.

He allowed his hands to travel all over her body, giving gentle squeezes as reminders of what was now his. She giggled and it made his heart leap from the delightful sound. This had been a night of many firsts. After such a long time, Mulder felt genuinely happy. He was finally home.

 

iv. Her

For seven years she denied herself the opportunity to seek a relationship with Fox Mulder. At first, the reasons were due to professionalism. Getting involved with a coworker never did well for a female agent’s reputation. First and foremost, she wanted to establish herself as a credible agent nor repeat the choices she had made in medical school and the academy. The tendency to become romantically involved with her superiors had proven to be an emotional mess. She did such a great job avoiding relationships that her personality was dubbed cold and impenetrable.

Private fantasies and desires she harbored for him tended to commingle during lonely nights in her apartment. Her medical background and his trust in her had granted many opportunities to see Mulder in all his glory. Using such access to fuel her mind as she touched herself in the privacy of her bedroom was deemed a violation of his confidentiality as her patient, partner, and friend. She fervently pushed them away not allowing the mental images of her partner to invade personal pleasures. Regardless, her mind would traitorously fill in his name and envision hazel eyes just as she reached the peaks of pleasure.

When the work day ended and she had the quiet solitude of her apartment without Mulder's noisy presence, she could recognize that she was lonely, however, she chose to be that way. Therefore it was easy to convince herself that solitude and a single life was what she wanted. 

After time and through experience, she realized and finally admitted to herself that what was occurring between them was not just the laws of attraction, but love. This awareness to her own feelings scared her as she quickly discovered that she couldn't leave him. There was great fear of losing her independence. She would be willing to do anything for him and she was afraid of becoming entirely consumed by that passion.

He told her that her science had saved and made him a whole person. She feared that once she surrendered to her desires that perhaps his expectations of her would change. Would he expect her to blindly agree with him once they started sharing a bed and not just an office? For too long, she was afraid of losing herself completely to the intensity of Mulder’s beliefs. It was still necessary to maintain a strict rationality and scientific approach for both their sake. She wanted to help validate their work and be taken seriously by the Bureau. Their superiors had already pointed out that her being taken by him was the reason for her unwavering loyalty to him and the X-Files.

Finding him almost dead on that operating table, his beautiful mind violated and probed, confirmed that she couldn't continue to ignore her true feelings. Thankfully, he decided not to ignore his feelings either. When he told her that she was his constant and touchstone, she decided to not push away his love anymore. Loneliness would no longer be her choice.

Dating Fox Mulder, the man, was just as invigorating as being the partner to the talented profiler and FBI agent. No one else knew that they were dating but it was always suspected. Actually, it was theorized among gossip circles in the FBI that they were simply having sex, meaningful or not. No one could understand the true nature of their relationship. It would only be misconstrued if either of them tried to explain it. 

She was fully aware when he started courting her. Though there was some trepidation, she was absolutely smitten and flattered. Those feelings were stronger and won over her nerves. She gladly played along and allowed him to continue wooing her with his tactics. 

“Hey Scully,” he prompted while waiting for their order of chili cheese fries. At his insistence, he wanted to try and share the appetizer with her. In return for her compliance, she got to choose their main course. “You, uh, you smell nice.”

She smiled but felt shy, looking down at her hands folded over the Formica table top.

“Thank you, Mulder,” she said meeting his eyes again. “Are you sure it's me though and not that slab of barbeque ribs that man over there is about to devour?”

The grin that came over his face was infectious.

“Well, you covered in barbeque sauce is tempting, Scully,” he leered at her playfully with a waggle of his eyebrows. “But I could pick out your scent among anything.”

A warmth flushed over her cheeks and chest.

“How?”

“Well lavender is a common ingredient in soaps and shampoos but the kind you use is extra calming that's how I can tell. The name lavender comes from the Latin root lavare, which means ’to wash’. It was frequently used in baths to help purify the body and spirit,” he proffered in his classic monologue. “Research has confirmed that lavender produces slight soothing and sedative effects when its scent is inhaled.

“Wow,” she provided trying to cover the effect he was having on her. “Wait...Mulder! Did you snoop through my bathroom?”

“Scully!” he cried in mock hurt, hand over his heart. “Of course not. I noticed that about you when we met. Ever since you walked into my office in your suit to discredit me and the existence of extraterrestrials, there’s always a nice aromatic effect...it, it helps me concentrate, calms me.”

The flutter of butterflies invaded her stomach every minute of the day when she thought about him.Their banter, outside of work hours, also consisted of intelligent topics but not as serious as engineered viruses and pathological or paranormal phenomenon. It was heartfelt and meaningful on a completely personal level.

“Well think about it, Scully, the Jetsons lived in houses in the sky. They drove aero cars that look like flying saucers and had incredible conveniences that left them with plenty of leisure time. Isn't that the ultimate dream life?”

She laughed. There was a realization as he spoke that she had been doing that a lot lately and it felt good. It was liberating to appreciate his humor openly and freely.

“I suppose. Although I have to say, why couldn’t Jane go out and do something exciting besides being obsessed with what to wear?” she offered as he gazed at her thoughtfully. “The talking dog was cool.”

“But if it were you and me, we could ride our aero car around to catch all the bad guys,” he said in the excited tone he used to entice her out on a case at six o'clock in the morning. “You could turn a whole wing of the house into a lab and Rosie could assist you with all your experiments. I wouldn't need much space for my poster and collection of trophies for capturing monsters and ghosts.”

Her pulse quickened at his implication of sharing a home. Amusement tugged at the corners of her mouth as she smiled.

“That sounds really nice, Mulder,” she agreed. “But I was more of a Rocky and Bullwinkle kind of girl.”

“Scully,” he spoke in an awed murmur as if she had suggested spontaneous human combustion. “Let me guess, you identified with the moose and his impeccable timing and know-it-all ability, especially at being able to remember everything he ever ate.”

Their joined laughter added to the cacophony of cutlery clinking on plates and murmurs of the other patrons. It was a laughter that Scully could feel in her lungs and took her breath away. This laughter created a small vacation, a blessed relief, from all the distress that had come from his mysterious illness and her trip to Africa. For a single moment, the lack of not having all the answers didn’t matter. 

“He’s my favorite,” she surmised. Like the cartoon duo, they also had a shared sense of optimism, persistence, and traditional ethics and moral standards, as well as a height difference. She couldn't stop laughing at their similarities. “He'd always make me laugh.”

Throughout their dates, he was an absolute gentleman, opening doors and insisting on paying for everything. He didn’t take away her independence and understood her need for personal time. She had never met a man who could be both chivalrous and fully accepting of who she was. They were able to finish bridging the gap that losing the X-Files and Diana Fowley had caused. 

On another night while enjoying wine and a movie at her apartment, she ventured into finally asking him about his former girlfriend. Ever since the Gibson Praise case and their confrontation about Diana’s questionable assignment overseas, Scully was curious about the only person who had come close to putting a rift in their partnership. Mulder did not appear to have wanted a romantic relationship with Diana, nevertheless she couldn't help but question why he had not been forthcoming with what the former agent meant to him. She was glad for her courage to do so.

“She...was nice to me and she believed me or I thought we believed in the same things,” he began cautiously. She could see him choosing his words carefully as he tried to explain a relationship he had purposely kept from her. “So, I felt like she was the only one I could be with because any other woman wouldn't be interested or willing to tolerate me and my rants about global conspiracies, monsters in the woods or about little green men.”

“Grey, Mulder. They’re grey.” She gave him a pointed look and he smiled back. “I guess most people think that they have to believe in the same things in order to coexist and have a viable relationship. I can admit to thinking that way but opposites do attract. Mulder, I know that we don’t always agree or believe in the same things...but um I value you who you are and what you stand for. And, I think you’re fairly tolerable. ”

She smiled at him before taking a sip from her wine and setting it back on the coffee table. Their bodies were aligned from shoulder to thigh on her couch. There was plenty of room to spread out but, as it was always the case with them, there was a magnetic attraction. The mental and physical draw to one another and couldn't be ignored.

“But you and I hadn’t met yet, Scully,” he added almost shyly. “I didn’t know then what I know now. I hadn’t experienced what we have.”

“Did you love her?” she inquired before realizing she had actually asked the question out loud. Lately, their comfort levels had greatly increased. They could discuss high school and college romances with few reservations but there was a lingering awkwardness when it came to Agent Fowley. Scully never quite understood why he was so quick to trust her but he must have his reasons. She was grateful for Diana’s help in rescuing him from the DOD facility. “I shouldn’t have…”

“No, no, Scully. It’s fine.”

He took in a deep breath, his mouth opened and closed but no words came out. He was really considering how to answer the question and she could tell he wanted to provide her with honesty.

“I knew even before she left that I wasn’t in love with her. I wouldn't have ever given up on my search for Samantha to settle down and have a life with her,” he provided. 

Their eyes met and she felt a flush come over her. She understood how important finding the truth about what happened to his sister meant to him. She would never expect him to give up on that and she hoped he knew that. 

“She stroked my ego and I liked that and as long as she was interested in the X-Files and the same things that I believed in...I wanted her around,” he said ducking his head. 

All of sudden, he found the denim of his jeans fascinating as he traced a finger on his thigh in a slow, curvy pattern.

“We all need to feel accepted and validated,” she conceded. “It seems that she provided that for you during a time when you really needed it.”

“I was so wrong about her, Scully,” he said shaking his head. He looked into her eyes and she saw the regret for believing a lie. “She never cared about the X-Files and I doubt she ever truly believed in what I do. Clearly, she didn’t or else she wouldn't have teamed up with Old Smokey.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly.

The mood of their evening had changed from carefree and sensual to somber and she was starting to regret bringing up the topic of the befallen agent.

“The whole thing with Diana did help me realize something,” he said pensively. “That it’s more important and valuable to have someone believe in you and not just believe you. And I didn't have any expectations from Diana except for her to help me, us, get the X-Files back, nothing else.”

He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently, his thumb smoothed out circles over hers. The crowding of butterflies in her stomach only increased. A tingle of excitement fluttered through her belly and thighs. 

After the movie was over and a bottle of wine was finished between the two of them, he cleared their glasses and deposited them in the sink. 

“I had a nice time,” he said coming back to the couch. 

Scully stood up and closed the distance between them. “Me too.”

His gaze was tender as his arms circled around her, hugging her tight and close to him. She felt his nose nuzzle her hair and she closed her eyes to the wonderful sensations of being so intimate. His hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and he kissed her cheek. His lips were pressed to her skin for an exquisite twelve seconds and they lingered for a moment. Perhaps, he was considering moving them a little to the left to meet with hers. She wished he did, there were no bees or shadowy figures lurking around.

“I should let you get some rest,” he told her instead. 

She sighed against his neck, letting her lips brush lightly against his skin. They slowly parted from their embrace and walked towards the front door. He reached for his leather jacket that was draped on one of the dining chairs and put it on.

He opened the door to let himself out and smiled. “See you tomorrow, Scully.”

Perhaps, he assumed that strictly by-the-book and Catholic Dana Scully expected nice and slow. She knew that she would have allowed him to take her to bed within the first year of working with him if he had made a move. When he didn’t attempt anything after she ran to his hotel room and undressed in front of him, she wasn't sure if she should be disappointed or thankful. It’s a good thing he hadn’t. It wouldn't have allowed for the kind of trust, respect, and love that was forged between them because of everything they endured together. 

She had decided that it was time things moved further along. They had gone through seven years of foreplay and it was about time for the main event. Asking him outright as to where this was heading seemed unromantic but she needed to know. For their next date, she wanted him to stay until morning.

So, three nights later, she invited him over to her apartment for dinner. 

“I can definitely get used to this, Scully,” he said beaming at her over a plate of her home-cooked meal. 

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment. "It's nothing..."

It was a lie since she made the sauce practically from scratch, and the whole ordeal took over two and a half hours to prepare but the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. 

“Lasagna is my favorite meal," he told her. "I have to say, Scully, this is the probably the best I’ve ever had.”

She smiled down at her plate and shifted in her seat.Throughout all their shared meals in diners and take-out orders, she would have never guessed he favored the Italian classic.

"I had no idea," she told him honestly.

Mulder nodded. "I don't know why. Maybe because I can get all my squares from the food groups. And it's like pasta flavoured cake."

"It's a food pyramid, Mulder," Scully told him.

"Since when?"

She laughed. "Don't you see the charts at your doctor's office?"

"You're my doctor," he told her and smiled. "Wanna examine me?"

Scully licked her bottom lip. "Maybe later."

She picked up the napkin on her lap and dabbed at her lips. He stared at her, tracking her movements, and he licked his lips while she wiped her mouth.

After their meal, she began to voice her fears to what she experienced in Africa and while he was ill as a precursor to expressing her feelings for him and what she wanted. There was no need to continue because he met her halfway.

They were sitting on her couch and he moved closer to her with a softness and intensity in the hazel of his eyes. Her heart was pounding in her chest, she could feel the blood in her ears, and her breathing hitched as he finally-finally-leaned in. His warm, soft lips brushed oh-so-lightly against hers.

She let out an involuntary whimper, desperately craving more of him. She felt his triumphant smirk as he pressed his mouth a little firmer against hers. Their lips moved achingly slow together then melded to one another with a fevered intensity.

She returned several times over what he was giving, running her fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. His fingers ghosted along her neck, cupped the back of her head, and tangled in the soft hair there. She arched into his touch. His other hand was flat against the small of her back, and he pushed ever so slightly.

It now seemed preposterous to think they had denied themselves this for so long. How inconceivable, when it felt so good to have his tongue in her mouth and her breasts pressed up against his chest. In that moment, everything else disappeared and the world shrank to just the two of them.

Much to her disappointment, he paused the exploration of his mouth on hers. As the perpetual gentleman, his eyes questioned whether he should continue even though she could see his intention bulging in his jeans.

She swallowed under his penetrating gaze as he was probing her very soul for an answer. She prayed silently he'd find the needed remedy as her body hummed with want and anticipation. He dropped his eyes from hers and his hand travelled slowly and sensually up her rib cage. Even through the material of her shirt, she could feel his scorching heat burning her.

It was utterly delicious.

His open hand against her back moved up and down her skin, slowly. She wanted to tell him to keep going but her ability to speak had become greatly impaired due to the ache at her center. His thumb brushed over the swell of her breast and her nipples hardened through the thin, lacy material of her bra.

“Mulder,” was all she could manage but it was enough to communicate what she wanted.

His hand came up, gently raking through her hair, as his lips came crashing down onto hers. She returned his enthusiasm with equal force, flinging her arms around his neck and settling her body onto his lap. The familiarity and pressure of his hand pushing slightly against her lower back sent another throbbing sensation between her thighs. She straddled his hips and pressed herself against the bulge that was firm against her sex and gasped in pleasure. They pulled each other closer until the only thing separating them was their clothing.

For some time now, she had known that Mulder occupied her heart and that she resided in his. Their unspoken agreement of celibacy and loneliness was irrational at this point, considering everything they had sustained and done for each other. There was no reason to deny themselves a chance at happiness out of respect or obedience to the institution that they had sacrificed so much for and didn’t give anything back. She wanted all of him. Mulder had taken over her heart, personal space, and now it was about time he filled her, completely. 

She stood up on shaky legs, took him by the hand, and led them to her bedroom. She placed her mouth to the curve where his neck and shoulder met, and kissed there. Then her lips trailed up his throat and she inhaled his invigorating scent of aftershave mixed with soap and leather.

"Fuck, Scully," he moaned in a strained voice.

Of all the innuendo and different inflections Mulder had ever used when speaking her name, she had not heard this tone. It was deep and masculine, and the expletive used before it made her gush with a whole new wave of moisture to her sex.

His lips claimed hers again. He took her bottom lip in between his teeth and bit down gently, eliciting another whimper from her.

“I knew this would be amazing,” he said softly, his fingers traveled down to her waist and grazed at the hem of her shirt.

“And how long have you been theorizing that, Mulder?” she wondered.

It didn't surprise her that as they approached this intimate phase of their relationship, he would present theories. She suspected Mulder liked to talk during sex and it excited her to discover she was correct. She was ready to show him proof and hard evidence that he was right. This was a theory that she could easily help him prove.

“I knew from the moment I met you,” he whispered in her ear, making her shiver. "Someone so passionate in their science had to be harboring the ability to take a man's breath away."

"That's not been the reputation that's followed me-"

"Ice queen?" Mulder interrupted and he shook his head. "Ignorance and idiocy often follow a fear of rejection, Scully. And men suck."

"Not all men," she said quietly and they shared a smile.

Her nipples became impossibly hard at hearing his words. Her arousal continued to grow in knowing that he had thought about them since the beginning. She found it endearing and sexy that he had waited and wasn’t the kind of man to take advantage of the situation. Despite his eccentric beliefs, Mulder was the type of guy to bring home and meet your mother. However, theirs was a complicated situation and at that moment she was not going to think about that. Instead, she reveled in the intimacy of their conversation and what it was leading to.

The moonlight bathed her bedroom in soft shadows. He was quite the vision with his tousled hair and pouty lips that glistened from their passionate kissing. 

His warm hands moved under her shirt and discovered her lace-covered breasts. “Chantilly lace?”

His touch was electric as it sent jolts through her body. She pulled back and nodded slightly before removing her shirt without any hesitation.

“Your turn,” she whispered.

He lowered his head and his hands touched her wrists as she pulled at his shirt. Together, they removed the soft cotton and let it fall quietly to the ground.

Her skilled hands immediately roamed his chest. It was invigorating to be able to touch him out of her love and desire for him, and not medical reasons. He smiled at her before allowing his eyes to travel down to her breasts. He reached behind her and undid the clasp, allowing the garment to fall off her shoulders and then down to the floor. 

“Beautiful,” he affirmed. His eyes were dilated and dark with arousal as he drank in the contours of her chest. “So beautiful.”

With the way he touched and looked at her, she felt undeniably beautiful. His words sent another thrill throughout her body. Crushing herself to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and covered his mouth with hers. The feeling of her nipples rubbing against his skin was exquisite. His hands gave a little tug at the waistband of her pants, suggesting that they should be the next to go.

Scully broke the kiss and reached for his belt. “You first, Mulder.”

There was an ardent need in her to see him. He brought out a side of her that she had always tried to keep in check. With him, she felt wanton and unconventional and she liked that. She felt that her taking charge would show him how much she wanted for this to happen between them. Judging by the fascinated look on Mulder’s face, he fully approved.

She unzipped his jeans, taking caution with his erection, and pushed them down his legs. A quick glance and her raised eyebrow made Mulder step out of the confinements. Her eyes roamed appreciatively over his biceps, his chest, and his stomach. She followed the line below his hips then lower to the dense hair that covered his thick and erect cock. She was completely mesmerized and the sight sent a bolt of heat with another rush between her dampened thighs.

“C’mere, Scully.”

His thumbs hooked on both her pants and panties to drag them down her legs. With all clothing banished and the rawness of desire, their hands explored each other unabashed. His hands cupped her ass, squeezing and roaming freely. When her breath grew heavier, she sat down on her bed and pulled him towards her. 

"Scully…” he rasped. “Dana, I—" 

His use of her given name made her heart beat faster. How wonderful that he was using it and no one had died. He gazed into her eyes. Somehow, they were always able to convey entire conversations in a single glance. She knew everything about him as he did about her. There was no need for any kind of barrier between them. Her swollen folds became overwhelmingly wet at this realization for she had never been with a man in this way. 

Mulder's gentle hands smoothed over her legs, up the inside of her thighs, and slowly parted them. His fingers inched closer and closer to her throbbing bundle of nerves. A gentle breeze against her moistened curls signaled that his mouth was close. Scully held her breath when he made contact and then moaned. An exquisite heat overtook her body as he sucked, licked, and probed the very center of her sex. Her hips rocked in time to his working mouth as a wonderful pressure began to build. Her head began to swim, her heart raced, and her eyes rolled shut as she reached towards the crest.

“Oh, Mulder...Mulder...I’m…” she cried out at the perfect pleasure that consumed her. She gave in to the tingling that started at the bottom of her feet and crept up her legs until it swelled and exploded at her center as she met her release.

His lapping tongue did not leave her sweet spot until her hand in his hair summoned him to come up to her. His mouth continued its reverent worship of her body, taking extra time and care with her aching nipples. He finally met with her mouth and they shared the taste of her.

Scully slowly smoothed her palm up and down his shaft and found great pleasure in his abrupt intake of air. He was hot and hard as stone. She did it again and was rewarded with a guttural moan.

“Lay down,” she whispered. 

She straddled his hips and slowly rubbed her sex up and down his cock. Touching him in this way was like finally holding solid evidence in her hands, seeing his beauty and complexity without any restraint or obfuscation. They had spent too much time not touching or looking at each other in a certain way, pretending that there wasn't any longing and desire behind it. She wanted to savor every second of their first time as he was finally hers to explore. There was no need to rush. Her mind was not photographic like his and she wanted to make sure she could replay this moment over and over. She wanted the ability to be able to picture him like this, sensual and vulnerable, while she sat across from him in their basement office or when other women gave him lustful looks. 

She whimpered as the heat of his hardness met with her wet and throbbing center. He sat up, their chests pressed together and she shifted on his lap, his hardened flesh nestled against her folds. His hands roamed her back, moving gently down to the curve of her waist, and held her tightly against him. With her arms hooked around his shoulders and legs wrapped around his waist, her pelvis undulated with his. The fluid motion of their hips stimulated every nerve ending of her body. Her breasts were heavy, the nipples painfully tight, and she gasped with every brush of his chest against their sensitive tips.

“I want you so bad," he whispered in her ear.

"Oh god," she moaned huskily. “I want you, too.”

He grabbed hold of her right breast and kneaded it softly, rolling the nipple between his thumb and index finger.

"Mmm-Mulder," she gasped as he palmed her other breast and gave it the same kind of attention.

He continued to rock and grind against her. 

“I've been waiting too damn long to do this," he rasped.

"Oh god, Mulder," she moaned breathlessly. "Please…"

"What do you want, Dana?" he asked tenderly, kissing along her collarbone.

"I want...I need you inside me.”

A growl emanated from deep within his chest that excited her like scientific facts. As he hugged her close to him, he lowered her to the mattress.

“You're so beautiful,” he said again as he positioned himself in between her thighs.

She smiled and her heart swelled with love for him. These were not words she needed to dispute. The truth was evident in the way he looked at her and how his cock nudged against her thigh. She stroked his cheek and spread her legs a little further.

As he lay on top of her, he took himself in hand and rubbed over her wetness before slowly slipping between her folds. The feel of his weight on her, how his form towered and covered every inch of hers was entrancing. His face, perfectly aligned above hers, was poised with an amorous and reverent expression. It created a coil of need that was hot and hard in her belly.

He slid into her slowly, smoothly, until his hips rested in the cradle of her legs. They both groaned at the exquisite pleasure. He was buried to the hilt, his cock filling and stretching her like no other before him. Her body wanted nothing more than to accommodate him as her heart and mind already had. His first movements were small and testing, and she rocked her pelvis up to meet them. He began thrusting slow and steady but she could tell he was holding back.

"It's okay, Mulder. I won't break," she reassured him. 

Love making before Mulder had been standard procedure, something to do exclusively with a boyfriend just to take care of physical urges. Now, as he began to move within her, it became a chance to show him so many things she needed to express. The thrusting of their hips stated they were partners in everything and equally good for the task. The caresses over the working muscles of his back were to reassure and encourage him. She gave him kisses punctuated with seven years worth of love and devotion.

He was amazing to watch as he found his pleasure within her body. On the side of her neck, his breath was hot and wet as he moved inside her with determination. The sounds he made were primal and unbridled.

With her body open wide to him, there was no place to hide from his intelligent and probing eyes. There were no longer any reasons to hide. He searched her heart and soul as he pumped in and out of her, blending their minds and bodies to expel their truth.

“I love...you...Dana,” he moaned. The blissful tone in his voice along with his hard thrusts started the coil and tightening in her belly that signaled the path towards her release. “Oh god, Scully.”

She felt tears prick her eyes. The words had been said before and they had also been demonstrated through the many times he risked his life to save her. However, she didn't want their love to be professed under the circumstances of near death experiences, drug induced courage, or feeling like she was second place to the X-Files. His words made her feel complete as she shared her body with him and he claimed it as his.This moment was perfect. 

His mouth moved along her jawline, finding that sweet spot behind her ear. He sunk his teeth into her flesh, his tongue gently soothed and his lips tenderly kissed and sucked until she came apart in his arms. 

“Oh god,” she moaned. “I love you.”

He grunted as her walls milked his cock. He thrust one final time, burying himself deep inside her as he let go. His hot seed filled her as he emptied himself inside her.

Sweaty and breathless, his head collapsed to the crook of her neck which seemed to be made just for him. Her fingers slowly combed through his hair, lightly scraping against his scalp as both of them came back down from the clouds.

"I love you," he whispered. 

“I love you,” she reciprocated and buried her face in his neck.

They would need to establish some boundaries to make sure their intimate involvement did not interfere with their work. She would have to learn to juggle her desire to fill her every waking moment with Mulder without losing her sense of self. All that would have to wait. Tonight, she would enjoy having a man in her bed and revel in their love and passion for each other. From now on, there wouldn't be any more loneliness.


End file.
